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THE BIOGRAPHICAL EDITION 

OF THE WORKS OF 

ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON 
COMPLETE POEMS 

A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES 
UNDERWOODS — BALLADS 



THE BIOGRAPHICAL EDITION 
OF STEVENSON'S WORKS 



NOVELS AND ROMANCES 

TREASURE ISLAND 

PRINCE OTTO 

KIDNAPPED 

THE BLACK ARROW 

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE 

THE WRONG BOX 

THE WRECKER 

DAVID BALFOUR 

THE EBB-TIDE 

WEIR OF HERMISTON 

ST. IVES 

SHORTER STORIES 

NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 

THE DYNAMITER 

THE MERRY MEN, containing DR. 

JEKYLL AND MR. HYDE 
ISLAND NIGHTS' ENTERTAINMENTS 

ESSAYS^ TRAVELS, AND SKETCHES 
AN INLAND VOYAGE 
TRAVELS WITH A DONKEY 
VIRGINIBUS PUERISQUE 
FAMILIAR STUDIES 
THE AMATEUR EMIGRANT, <:enra«n«njf 

THE SILVERADO SQUATTERS 
MEMORIES AND PORTRAITS 
IN THE SOUTH SEAS 
ACROSS THE PLAINS 
ESSAYS OF TRAVEL AND IN THE 
ART OF WRITING 

POEMS 
COMPLETE POEMS 



Twenty-five volumes. Sold singly or in sets 
Per vol.. Cloth, $T.OO; Limp Leather, $I.2S net. 

Charles Scribner's Sons, New York 



BIOGRAPHICAL EDITION 



COMPLETE POEMS 

A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES 
UNDERWOODS — BALLADS 



BY 

ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON 



WITH PREFACES BT MRS. STEFENSON 



NEW YORK 

CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 

1905 



USPARYot 00N3KESS 
Two Copies rtec«veci 

S£Pc 15 1905 
jT CouyriRni tiurv , 



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Copyright, i8gs, i8g6, igos 
By Charles Scribner's Sons 






THE UNIVERSITY PRESS, CAMBRIDGE, U, S. A. 



PREFACE 

TO 

THE BIOGRAPHICAL EDITION 

OF 

A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES 

DURING all the early part of her mar- 
ried life, Margaret Stevenson was more 
or less an invalid, with persistent and 
alarming symptoms of consumption; her only 
child, Robert Louis, inherited from her a predis- 
position to affections of the lungs. He was un- 
fortunate, besides, in having to endure in infancy 
the climate of Edinburgh, which with its cold 
mists and penetrating east winds was far from 
a desirable home for a delicate child. Unable, 
through her own ill-health, to take proper charge 
of her little son, his mother was forced to give 
him over almost entirely into the hands of hired 
nurses. The reign of the first nurse was very 
short, she being accidentally discovered in a public 
house much the worse for drink, while her tender 
charge, done up in a parcel, lay tucked out of 
sight on a shelf behind the bar. The second nurse 
proved no better; but the third, Alison Cunning- 
ham, familiarly called Cummy, proved an esti- 

Copyright, 1905, by Charles Scribner's Sons 



vi PREFACE 

mable woman, who soon won the confidence of 
the family. 

Cummy's piety was her strongest recommenda- 
tion, but her convictions and consequent teachings, 
believing as she did in a literal hell along with the 
other tenets of her church, were rather strong meat 
for the mental digestion of an imaginative, nervous 
child. My husband has told me of the terrors of 
the night, when he dared not go to sleep lest he 
should wake amid the flames of eternal torment, 
and how he would be taken from his bed in the 
morning unrefreshed, feverish, and ill, but rejoic- 
ing that he had gained at least a respite from what 
he believed to be his just doom ; Cummy, kindly 
soul, never dreaming of the dire effect of her re- 
ligious training. The nursery, in the custom of 
the time, was kept almost hermetically closed, so 
that not a breath of air could penetrate from the 
outside; if little Smoutie, as he was called, waked 
from his dreams with cries of fright, the watchful 
Cummy was ready to make him a fresh drink of 
coffee, which she considered a particularly sooth- 
ing beverage. According to her lights she was 
faithful and conscientious, and the child regarded 
her with the deepest affection. 

The terrifying aspects of religion were gener- 
ally confined to the night hours. In the daytime 
Cummy, with her contagious gayety and unceasing 
inventions for the amusement of her nursling, 
made the time fly on wings. Her imagination 
was almost as vivid as the child's, and her tact 
in his management was unfailing. She had a 



PREFACE vii 

great feeling for poetry and the music of words, 
and can still tell a story with much dramatic 
effect. When the sick child turned from his food 
and would not eat, Cummy could usually per- 
suade him to another effort by saying, " It is made 
from the finest of the wheat." The biblical words 
" shew bread " might also be used when every- 
thing else failed, but I fancy Cummy was chary 
of quoting from the sacred book unless the occa- 
sion were very serious indeed. 

Had my husband's infancy been passed in the 
fresh air and sunshine of a milder climate, his 
whole life might have been different. His choice 
of the profession of literature was an acknowl- 
edgment that his health would not admit of his 
becoming what he wished to be most, — a soldier. 
To be sure, the child often visited Colinton Manse, 
where the grandchildren of Dr. Balfour were more 
than welcome. To question the healthfulness of 
Colinton would be like a heresy in the family, but 
it lies on low, damp ground, and in any other part 
of the world would suggest malaria. No doubt, 
too, the minister's little grandson would be care- 
fully dressed to befit his position, and not allowed 
the freedom that would have been so wholesome 
for him. 

Judged by the standards of to-day, the methods 
of the medical profession were inconceivably harsh 
and ignorant, and it seems a miracle that my hus- 
band should have survived their treatment and 
grown to manhood. \Mien the little Louis was 
stricken with gastric fever he was dosed with 



viii PREFACE 

powerful drugs; no one thought of looking into 
the sanitary condition of the premises, which 
were afterwards found to have been for years in 
a most dangerous state. And when the child, 
weakened by an attack of pneumonia, took cold 
after cold, antimonial wine was administered con- 
tinuously for a period extending into months; 
" enough," said Dr. George Balfour, " to ruin his 
constitution for life." No wonder that after a 
little time at play he became so feverishly excited 
that his toys must be removed and his playmates 
sent away. 

My husband drew upon his memory for " The 
Sick Child " who lay awake hoping for the dawn, 
and listening for the sound of the morning carts 
that proved the weary night was almost over. In- 
deed, every poem in The Child's Garden was a 
bit out of his own childhood. He had little under- 
standing of children in general; I remember his 
watching with puzzled amazement the games of 
a little brother and sister who were visiting us at 
Bournemouth. Their poverty of resource, and the 
spiritless way they went about their sport, were 
most distressing to him. When he found that 
they were not exceptional, but represented a pretty 
fair average, he exclaimed : '' I see the approach- 
ing decline of England ! There is something radi- 
cally wrong in a generation that does not know 
how to play." I imagine, however, that it requires 
something almost like genius to play as he played, 
and that it was hardly fair to judge our little guests 
from the plane of his own childhood. 



PREFACE ix 

In spite of the many days and nights passed in 
the '' Land of Counterpane," and shining, perhaps, 
all the brighter by comparison, there were brilliant 
episodes of play that remained clearer in my hus- 
band's memory than almost any other part of his 
life. He was especially happy in the companion- 
ship of two of his Edinburgh cousins, — Willie 
and Henrietta Traquair. As a little girl Henrietta 
already showed the characteristics that were her 
charm in womanhood. Never quarrelsome, and 
always cheerfully willing to take a secondary place, 
she nevertheless made her individuality felt, and 
threw a romantic glamour over every part she 
assumed. Even the wicked ogre, or giant, she 
endowed with unexpected attributes of generosity, 
and her impersonation of a chivalrous knight was 
ideal. When I last saw Henrietta, a few years 
ago, we both knew that she had but a little while 
to live, but the undaunted light in her eyes seemed 
to say : — 

Must we to bed, indeed ? Well then 
Let us arise and go like men. 

From the memory of these early days my hus- 
band plucked a blossom here and there for The 
Child's Garden. A beginning was made by the 
writing of a few verses while we stopped in 
Braemar. A few months later, in Hyeres, the 
games of his childhood served in a new way to 
again interest and amuse him. After a terrible 
hemorrhage, he fell a victim to sciatica, and at the 
same time was temporarily blind from an attack 
of ophthalmia. Not only w^as all light excluded 



X PREFACE 

from the room where he lay, but on account of 
the hemorrhage his right arm was closely bound 
to his side. Most men would have succumbed to 
the force of circumstances, but he, undismayed, 
determined to circumvent the fate he would not 
accept. Across his bed a board was laid on 
which large sheets of paper were pinned ; on these, 
or on a slate fastened to the board, he laboriously 
wrote out in the darkness, with his left hand, 
many more of the songs of his childhood. In 
1885 these were collected in a volume first called 
Penny Whistles, but afterwards changed to A 
Child's Garden of Verses, and published under 
that name with the addition of six envoys. 

F. V. DE G. S. 



CONTENTS 

Page 

To Alison Cunningham i 

I Bed in Summer 3 

II A Thought 4 

III At the Sea-side 4 

IV Young Night Thought 5 

V Whole Duty of Children ...... 6 

VI Rain 6 

VII Pirate Story 7 

VIII Foreign Lands 8 

IX Windy Nights 9 

X Travel 10 

XI Singing 11 

XII Looking forward 12 

XIII A Good Play 12 

XIV Where go the Boats ? 13 

XV Auntie's Skirts 13 

XVI The Land of Counterpane 14 

XVII The Land of Nod 15 

XVIII My Shadow 16 

XIX System 17 

XX A Good Boy 18 

XXI Escape at Bedtime 19 

XXII Marching Song 20 

XXIII The Cow 21 

XXIV Happy Thought 21 

XXV The Wind 22 

XXVI Keepsake Mill 23 



xii CONTENTS 

Page 

XXVII Good and Bad Children 24 

XXVIII Foreign Children 25 

XXIX The Sun's Travels 26 

XXX The Lamplighter 27 

XXXI My Bed is a Boat 28 

XXXII The Moon 29 

XXXIII The Swing 30 

XXXIV Time to Rise 30 

XXXV Looking-glass River 31 

XXXVI Fairy Bread 32 

XXXVII From a Railway Carriage 32 

XXXVIII Winter-time 33 

XXXIX The Hayloft 34 

XL Farewell to the Farm 35 

XLI North-west Passage 36 

1 Good-night 

2 Shadow March 

3 In Port 

The Child Alone 

I The Unseen Playmate 41 

II My Ship and I 42 

III My Kingdom 43 

IV Picture-books in Winter 44 

V My Treasures 45 

VI Block City 46 

VII The Land of Story-books 47 

VIII Armies in THE Fire 48 

IX The Little Land 49 

Garden Days 

I Night and Day 53 

II Nest Eggs S5 

III The Flowers 56 



CONTENTS xiii 

Page 

IV Summer Sun 57 

V The Dumb Soldier 58 

VI Autumn Fires 59 

VII The Gardener 60 

VIII Historical Associations 61 

Envoys 

I To Willie and Henrietta 65 

II To MY Mother 66 

III To Auntie 66 

IV To Minnie d-j 

V To MY Name-child 70 

VI To ANY Reader . 71 



TO 
ALISON CUNNINGHAM 

FROM HER BOY 

FOR the long nights you lay awake 
And watched for my unworthy sake 
For your moSt comfortable hand 
That led me through the uneven land : 
For all the story-books you read : 
For all the pains you comforted : 
For all you pitied, all you bore, 
In sad and happy days of yore : — 
My second Mother, my first Wife, 
The angel of my infant life — 
From the sick child, now well and old. 
Take, nurse, the little book you hold ! 

And grant it, Heaven, that all who read 
May find as dear a nurse at need, 
And every child who lists my rhyme, 
In the bright, fireside, nursery clime, 
May hear it in as kind a voice 
As made my childish days rejoice ! 



R. L. S. 



A CHILD'S GARDEN 
OF VERSES 



BED IN SUMMER 

IN winter I get up at night 
And dress by yellow candle-light, 
In summer, quite the other way, 
I have to go to bed by day. 

I have to go bed and see 
The birds still hopping on the tree, 
Or hear the grown-up people's feet 
Still going past me in the street. 

And does it not seem hard to you, 
When all the sky is clear and blue, 
And I should like so much to play, 
To have to go to bed by day ? 



A CHILD'S GARDEN 



II 

A THOUGHT 

IT is very nice to think 
The world is full of meat and drink, 
With little children saying grace 
In every Christian kind of place. 



Ill 

AT THE SEA-SIDE 



W 



HEN I was down beside the sea 

A wooden spade they gave to me 
To dig the sandy shore. 



My holes were empty like a cup. 
In every hole the sea came up, 
Till it could come no more. 



OF VERSES 



IV 

YOUNG NIGHT THOUGHT 

ALL night long and every night, 
When my mama puts out the Hght, 
I see the people marching by, 
As plain as day, before my eye. 

Armies and emperors and kings, 
All carrying different kinds of things, 
And marching in so grand at way, 
You never saw the like by day. 

So fine a show was never seen 
At the great circus on the green ; 
For every kind of beast and man 
Is marching in that caravan. 

At first they move a little slow. 
But still the faster on they go. 
And still beside them close I keep 
Until we reach the town of Sleep. 



A CHI LD'S CARD EN 



V 

WHOLE DUTY OF CHILDREN 

A CHILD should always say what 's true 
And speak when he is spoken to, 
And behave mannerly at table; 
At least as far as he is able. 



VI 

RAIN 

THE rain is raining all around, 
It falls on field and tree, 
It rains on the umbrellas here. 
And on the ships at sea. 



OF VERSES 



VII 

PIRATE STORY 

THREE of US afloat in the meadow by the swing, 
Three of us aboard in the basket on the lea. 
Winds are in the air, they are blowing in the spring, 
And waves are on the meadow like the waves there 
are at sea. 

Where shall we adventure, to-day that we 're afloat, 
Wary of the weather and steering by a star? 

Shall it be to Africa, a-steering of the boat. 

To Providence, or Babylon, or ofif to Malabar? 

Hi ! but here 's a squadron a-rowing on the sea — 

Cattle on the meadow a-charging with k roar! 
Quick, and we '11 escape them, they 're as mad as they 
can be, 
The wicket is the harbour and the garden is the 
shore. 



A CHILD'S GARDEN 



VIII 

FOREIGN LANDS 

UP into the cherry tree 
Who should cHmb but Httle me? 
I held the trunk with both my hands 
And looked abroad on foreign lands. 

I saw the next door garden lie, 
Adorned with flowers, before my eye, 
And many pleasant places more 
That I had never seen before. 

I saw the dimpling river pass 
And be the sky's blue looking-glass ; 
The dusty roads go up and down 
With people tramping into town. 

If I could find a higher tree 
Farther and farther I should see, 
To where the grown-up river slips 
Into the sea among the ships, 

To where the roads on either hand 
Lead onward into fairy land. 
Where all the children dine at five, 
And all the playthings come alive. 



OF VERSES 



IX 

WINDY NIGHTS 

WHENEVER the moon and stars arc set, 
Whenever the wind is high, 
All night long in the dark and wet, 

A man goes riding by. 
Late in the night when the fires are out, 
Why does he gallop and gallop about? 

Wlienever the trees are crying aloud, 

And ships are tossed at sea, 
By, on the highway, low and loud. 

By at the gallop goes he. 
By at the gallop he goes, and then 
By he comes back at the gallop again. 



lo A CHILD'S GARDEN 



X 

TRAVEL 

I SHOULD like to rise and go 
Where the golden apples grow ; — 
Where below another sky 
Parrot islands anchored lie, 
And,- watched by cockatoos and goats. 
Lonely Crusoes building boats ; — 
Where in sunshine reaching out 
Eastern cities, miles about. 
Are with mosque and minaret 
Among sandy gardens set, 
And the rich goods from near and far 
Hang for sale in the bazaar ; — 
Where the Great Wall round China goes, 
And on one side the desert blows, 
And with bell and voice and drum. 
Cities on the other hum ; — 
Where are forests, hot as fire, 
Wide as England, tall as a spire. 
Full of apes and cocoa-nuts 
And the negro hunters' huts ; — 
Where the knotty crocodile 
Lies and blinks in the Nile, 
And the red flamingo flies 
Hunting fish before his eyes ; — 
Where in jungles, near and far, 
Man-devouring tigers are, 
Lying close and giving ear 
Lest the hunt be drawing near. 
Or a comer-by be seen 



OFVERSES II 

Swinging- in a palanquin ; — 
Where among the desert sands 
Some deserted city stands. 
All its children, sweep and prince, 
Grown to manhood ages since, 
Not a foot in street or house, 
Not a stir of child or mouse. 
And when kindly falls the night, 
In all the town no spark of light. 
There I '11 come when I 'm a man 
With a camel caravan ; 
Light a fire in the gloom 
Of some dusty dining room ; 
See the pictures on the walls, 
Heroes, fights and festivals ; 
And in a corner find the toys 
Of the old Egyptian boys. 



XI 

SINGING 

OF Speckled eggs the birdie sings 
And nests among the trees ; 
The sailor sings of ropes and things 
In ships upon the seas. 

The children sing in far Japan, 
The children sing in Spain ; 

The organ with the organ man 
Is singing in the rain. 



12 A CHILD'S GARDEN 

XII 

LOOKING FORWARD 

WHEN I am grown to man's estate 
I shall be very proud and great, 
And tell the other girls and boys 
Not to meddle with my toys. 

XIII 

A GOOD PLAY 

WE built a ship upon the stairs 
All made of the back-bedroom chairs, 
And filled it full of sofa pillows 
To go a-sailing on the billows. 

We took a saw and several nails. 
And water in the nursery pails ; 
And Tom said, '' Let us also take 
An apple and a slice of cake ; " — 
Which was enough for Tom and me 
To go a-sailing on, till tea. 

We sailed along for days and days, 
And had the very best of plays ; 
But Tom fell out and hurt his knee, 
So there was no one left but me. 



OFVERSES 13 



XIV 

WHERE GO THE COATS? 



D 



ARK brown is the river 
Golden is the sand. 
It flows along for ever, 
With trees on either hand. 



Green leaves a-floating, 

Castles of the foam, 
Boats of mine a-boating — 

Where will all come home? 

On goes the river 

And out past the mill, 

Awa}- down the valley. 
Away down the hill. 

Away down the river, 

A hundred miles or more, 

Other little children 

Shall bring my boats ashore. 



XV 

auntie's skirts 

WHENEVER Auntie moves around. 
Her dresses make a curious sound 
They trail behind her uj) the floor, 
And trundle after through the door. 



14 A CHILD'S GARDEN 



XVI 

THE LAND OF COUNTERPANE 

WHEN I was sick and lay a-bed, 
I had two pillows at my head, 
And all my toys beside me lay 
To keep me happy all the day. 

And sometimes for an hour or so 
I watched my leaden soldiers go, 
With different uniforms and drills, 
Among the bed-clothes, through the hills 

And sometimes sent my ships in fleets 
All up and down among the sheets ; 
Or brought my trees and houses out, 
And planted cities all about. 

I was the giant great and still 
That sits upon the pillow-hill, 
And sees before him, dale and plain, 
The pleasant land of counterpane. 



OF VERSES 



XVII 



THE LAND OF NOD 



FROM breakfast on through all the day 
At home among my friends I stay, 
But every night I go abroad 
Afar into the land of Nod, 

All by myself I have to go, 

With none to tell me what to do — 

All alone beside the streams 

And up the mountain-sides of dreams. 

The strangest things are there for me. 
Both things to eat and things to see, 
And many frightening sights abroad 
Till morning in the land of Nod. 

Try as I like to find the way, 
I never can get back by day, 
Xor can remember plain and clear 
The curious music that I hear. 



i6 A CHILD'S GARDEN 

XVIII 

MY SHADOW 

I HAVE a little shadow that goes in and out with 
me, 
And what can be the use of him is more than I can 

see. 
He is very, very like me from the heels up to the 

head ; 
And I see him jump before me, when I jump into my 
bed. 

The funniest thing about him is the way he likes to 

grow — 
Not at all like proper children, which is always very 

slow ; 
For he sometimes shoots up taller like an india-rubber 

ball. 
And he sometimes gets so little that there 's none of 

him at all. 

He has n't got a notion of how children ought to play, 
And can only make a fool of me in every sort of way. 
He stays so close beside me, he 's a coward you can 

see; 
I 'd think shame to stick to nursie as that shadow 

sticks to me! 

One morning, very early, before the sun was up, 
I rose and found the shining dew on every buttercup ; 
But my lazy little shadow, like an arrant sleepy-head. 
Had stayed at home behind me and was fast asleep 
in bed. 



OFVERSES 17 



XIX 

SYSTEM 

EVERY night my prayers I say, 
And get my dinner every day ; 
And every day that I 've been good, 
I get an orange after food. 

The child that is not clean and neat, 
With lots of toys and things to eat, 
He is a naughty child, I 'm sure — 
Or else his dear papa is poor. 



i8 A CHILD'S GARDEN 
XX 

A GOOD BOY 

I WOKE before the morning, I was happy all the 
day, 
I never said an ugly word, but smiled and stuck to 
play. 

And now at last the sun is going down behind the 

wood, 
And I atn very happy, for I know that I 've been 

good. 

My bed is waiting cool and fresh, with linen smooth 

and fair. 
And I must off to sleepsin-by, and not forget my 

prayer. 

I know that, till to-morrow I shall see the sun arise, 
No ugly dream shall fright my mind, no ugly sight 
my eyes. 

But slumber hold me tightly till I waken in the dawn, 
And hear the thrushes singing in the lilacs round the 
lawn. 



OF VERSES 



XXI 

ESCAPE AT BEDTIME 

THE lights from the parlour and kitchen shone 
out 
Through the blinds and the windows and bars ; 
And high overhead and all moving about, 

There were thousands of millions of stars. 
There ne'er were such thousands of leaves on a tree, 

Nor of people in church or the Park, 
As the crowds of the stars that looked down upon me, 
And that glittered and w^inked in the dark. 

The Dog, and the Plough, and the Hunter, and all, 

And the star of the sailor, and Mars, 
These shone in the sky, and the pail by the wall 

Would be half full of water and stars. 
They saw me at last, and they chased me with cries. 

And they soon had me packed into bed ; 
But the glory kept shining and bright in my eyes, 

And the stars going round in my head. 



20 A CHILD'S GARDEN 



XXII 

MARCHING SONG 

BRING the comb and play upon it! 
Marching, here we come ! 
WilHe cocks his highland bonnet, 
Johnnie beats the drum. 

Mary Jane commands the party, 

Peter leads the rear ; 
Feet in time, alert and hearty, 

Each a Grenadier! 

All in the most martial manner 

Marching double-quick ; 
While the napkin like a banner 

Waves upon the stick ! 

Here 's enough of fame and pillage, 

Great commander Jane ! 
Now that we Ve been round the village. 

Let 's go home again. 



T 



OF VERSES 21 

XXIII 

THE COW 

THE friendly cow all red and white, 
I love with all my heart : 
She gives me cream with all her might, 
To eat with apple-tart. 

She wanders lowing here and there, 

And yet she cannot stray, 
All in the pleasant open air, 

The pleasant light of day ; 

And blown by all the winds that pass 

And wet with all the showers. 
She walks among the meadow grass 

And eats the meadow flowers. 

XXIV 

HAPPY THOUGHT 

HE world is so full of a number of things. 
I 'm sure we should all be as happy as kings. 



22 A CHILD'S GARDEN 



XXV 

THE WIND 

I SAW you toss the kites on high 
And blow the birds about the sky; 
And all around I heard you pass, 
Like ladies' skirts across the grass — 
O wind, a-blowing all day long, 
O wind, that sings so loud a song! 

I saw the different things you did, 
But always you yourself you hid. 
I felt you push, I heard you call, 
I could not see yourself at all — 

O wind, a-blowing all day long, 
O wind, that sings so loud a song! 

O you that are so strong and cold, 
O blower, are you young or old ? 
Are you a beast of field and tree. 
Or just a stronger child than me? 
O wind, a-blowing all day long, 
O wind, that sings so loud a song ! 



O F V E R S E S 23 



XXVI 

KEEPSAKE MILL 

OVER the borders, a sin without pardon, 
Breaking the branches and crawhng below, 
Out through the breach in the waU of the garden, 
Down by the banks of the river, we go. 

Here is the mill with the humming of thunder, 
Here is the weir with the wonder of foam, 

Here is the sluice with the race running under — 
Marvellous places, though handy to home ! 

Sounds of the village grow stiller and stiller, 
Stiller the note of the birds on the hill ; 

Dusty and dim are the eyes of the miller, 
Deaf are his ears with the moil of the mill. 

Years may go by, and the wheel in the river 
Wheel as it wheels for us, children, to-day, 

Wheel and keep roaring and foaming for ever 
Long after all of the boys are away. 

Home from the Indies and home from the ocean, 
Heroes and soldiers we all shall come home ; 

Still we shall find the old mill wheel in motion, 
Turning and churning that river to foam. 

You with the bean that I gave when we quarrelled, 
I with your marble of Saturday last, 

Honoured and old and all gaily apparelled. 
Here we shall meet and remember the past. 



24 A CHILD'S GARDEN 



XXVII 

GOOD AND BAD CHILDREN 

CHILDREN, you are very little, 
And your bones are very brittle ; 
If you would grow great and stately. 
You must try to walk sedately. 

You must still be bright and quiet, 
And content with simple diet ; 
And remain, through all bewild'ring. 
Innocent and honest children. 

Happy hearts and happy faces, 
Happy play in grassy places — 
That was how, in ancient ages. 
Children grew to kings and sages. 

Rut the unkind and the unruly. 
And the sort who eat unduly, 
They must never hope for glory — 
Theirs is quite a different story ! 

Cruel children, crying babies, 
All grow up as geese and gabies. 
Hated, as their age increases, 
By their nephews and their nieces. 



OF VERSES 25 



XXVIII 

FOREIGN CHILDREN 

LITTLE Indian, Sioux or Crow, 
J Little frosty Eskimo, 
Little Turk or Japanee, 
O ! don't you wish that you were me? 

You have seen the scarlet trees 
And the lions over seas ; 
You have eaten ostrich eggs, 
And turned the turtles off their legs. 

Such a life is very fine. 
But it 's not so nice as mine : 
You must often, as you trod, 
Have wearied not to be abroad. 

You have curious things to eat, 
I am fed on proper meat ; 
You must dwell beyond the foam, 
But I am safe and live at home. 

Little Indian, Sioux or Crow, 

Little frosty Eskimo, 

Little Turk or Japanee, 
O! don't you wish that you were me? 



26 A CHILD'S GARDEN 



XXIX 

THE sun's travels 

THE sun is not a-bed, when I 
At night upon my pillow lie ; 
Still round the earth his way he takes, 
And morning after morning makes. 

While here at home, in shining day, 
We round the sunny garden play. 
Each little Indian sleepy-head 
Is being kissed and put to bed. 

And when at eve I rise from tea. 
Day dawns beyond the Atlantic Sea ; 
And all the children in the West 
Are getting up and being dressed. 



OFVERSES 27 



XXX 

THE LAMPLIGHTER 

MY tea is nearly ready and the sun has left the 
sky ; 
It 's time to take the window to see Leerie going by ; 
For every night at teatime and before you take your 

seat, 
With lantern and with ladder he comes posting up the 
street. 

Now Tom would be a driver and Maria go to sea, 
And my papa 's a banker and as rich as he can be ; 
But I, when I am stronger and can choose what I 'm 

to do, 
O Leerie, I '11 go round at night and light the lamps 

with you ! 

For we are very lucky, with a lamp before the door, 
And Leerie stops to light it as he lights so many 

more; 
And O ! before you hurry by with ladder and with 

light, 
O Leerie, see a little child and nod to him to-night ! 



28 A CHILD'S GARDEN 



XXXI 

MY BED IS A BOAT 

MY bed is like a little boat ; 
Nurse helps me in when I embark; 
She girds me in my sailor's coat 
And starts me in the dark. 

At night, I go on board and say 

Good-night to all my friends on shore ; 

I shut my eyes and sail away 
And see and hear no more. 

And sometimes things to bed I take. 
As prudent sailors have to do; 

Perhaps a slice of wedding-cake, 
Perhaps a" toy or two. 

All night across the dark we steer; 

But when the day returns at last, 
Safe in my room, beside the pier, 

I find my vessel fast. 



OF VERSES 



29 



XXXII 

THE MOON 

THE moon has a face like the clock in the hall 
She shines on thieves on the garden wall, 
On streets and fields and harbour quays. 
And birdies asleep in the forks of the trees. 

The squalling cat and the squeaking mouse, 
The howling dog by the door of the house, 
The bat that lies in bed at noon. 
All love to be out by the light of the moon. 

But all of the things that belong to the day 
Cuddle to sleep to be out of her way ; 
And flowers and children close their eyes 
Till up in the morning the sun shall arise. 



JO A CHILD'S GARDEN 



XXXIII 

THE SWING 

HOW do you like to go up in a swing, 
Up in the air so blue? 
Oh, I do think it the pleasantest thing 
Ever a child can do ! 

Up in the air and over the wall, 

Till I can see so wide. 
Rivers and trees and cattle and all 

Over the countryside — 

Till I look down on the garden green, 
Down on the roof so brown — 

Up in the air I go flying again, 
Up in the air and down ! 



XXXIV 

TIME TO RISE 

A BIRDIE with a yellow bill 
Hopped upon the window sill, 
Cocked his shining eye and said : 
" Ain't you 'shamed, you sleepy-head ! 



OF VERSES 31 



XXXV 

LOOKING-GLASS RIVER 

OMOOTH it slides upon its travel, 
^ Here a wimple, there a gleam - 

O the clean gravel ! 

O the smooth stream! 

Sailing blossoms, silver fishes, 
Paven pools as clear as air — 
How a child wishes 
To live down there ! 

We can see our coloured faces 
Floating on the shaken pool 
Down in cool places, 
Dim and very cool ; 

Till a wind or water wrinkle, 
Dipping marten, plumping trout. 
Spreads in a twinkle 
And blots all out. 

See the rings pursue each other ; 
All below grows black as night. 
Just as if mother 
Had blown out the light! 

Patience, children, just a minute — 
See the spreading circles die; 
The stream and all in it 
Will clear bv-and-bv. 



72 A CHILD'S GARDEN 



J 



XXXVI 

FAIRY BREAD 

COME up here, O dusty feet! 
Here is fair}^ bread to eat. 
Here in my retiring room, 
Children, you may dine 
On the golden smell of broom 

And the shade of pine ; 
And when you have eaten well, 
Fairy stories hear and tell. 



XXXVII 

FROM A RAILWAY CARRIAGE 

FASTER than fairies, faster than witches, 
Bridges and houses, hedges and ditches ; 
And charging along like troops in a battle. 
All through the meadows the horses and cattle: 
All of the sights of the hill and the plain 
Fly as thick as driving rain ; 
And ever again, in the wink of an eye, 
Painted stations whistle by. 

Here is a child who clambers and scrambles, 
All by himself and gathering brambles ; 
Here is a tramp who stands and gazes ; 
And there is the green for stringing the daisies ! 
Here is a cart run away in the road 
Lumping along with man and load ; 
And here is a mill and there is a river : 
Each a glimpse and gone for ever ! 



OFVERSES 3j 



XXXVIII 

WINTER-TIME 

LATE lies the wintry sun a-bed, 
' A frosty, fiery sleepy-head ; 
Blinks but an hour or two ; and then, 
A blood-red orange, sets again. 

Before the stars have left the skies. 
At morning in the dark I rise ; 
And shivering in my nakedness, 
By the cold candle, bathe and dress. 

Close by the jolly fire I sit 
To warm my frozen bones a bit ; 
Or with a reindeer-sled, explore 
The colder countries round the door. 

When to go out, my nurse doth wrap 
Me in my comforter and cap ; 
The cold wind burns my face, and blows 
Its frosty pepper up my nose. 

Black are my steps on silver sod ; 
Thick blows my frosty breath abroad ; 
And tree and house, and hill and lake, 
Are frosted like a wedding-cake. 



34 A CHILD'S GARDEN 



XXXIX 

THE HAYLOFT 

THROUGH all the pleasant meadow-side 
The grass grew shoulder-high, 
Till the shining scythes went far and wide 
And cut it down to dry. 

These green and sweetly smelling crops 

They led in waggons home; 
And they piled them here in mountain tops 

For mountaineers to roam. 

Here is Mount Clear, Mount Rusty-Nail, 
Mount Eagle and Mount High; 

The mice that in these mountains dwell, 
No happier are than I ! 

O what a joy to clamber there, 

O what a place for play, 
With the sweet, the dim, the dusty air, 

The happy hills of hay ! 



OF VERSES 

XL 

FAREWELL TO THE FARM 

THE coach Is at the door at last ; 
The eager children, mounting fast 
And kissing hands, in chorus sing : 
Good-bye, good-bye, to everything! 

To house and garden, field and lawn, 
The meadow-gates we swang upon, 
To pump and stable, tree and swing. 
Good-bye, good-bye, to everything! 

And fare you well for evermore, 
O ladder at the hayloft door, 
O hayloft where the cobwebs cling, 
Good-bye, good-bye, to everything! 

Crack goes the whip, and off we go ; 
The trees and houses smaller grow ; 
Last, round the woody turn we swing: 
Good-bye, good-bye, to everything! 



35 



^6 A CHILD'S GARDEN 



XLI 

NORTH-WEST PASSAGE 
I. GOOD NIGHT. 

WHEN the bright lamp is carried in, 
The sunless hours again begin ; 
O'er all without, in field and lane, 
The haunted night returns again. 

Now we behold the embers flee 
About the firelit hearth ; and see 
Our faces painted as we pass, 
Like pictures, on the window-glass. 

Must we to bed indeed ? Well then. 
Let us arise and go like men, 
And face with an undaunted tread 
The long black passage up to bed. 

Farewell, O brother, sister, sire! 
O pleasant party round the fire! 
The songs you sing, the tales you tell, 
Till far to-morrow, fare ye wellj 



OFVERSES 37 



2. SHADOW MARCH. 

All round the house is the jet-black nig-ht ; 

It stares through the window-pane ; 
It crawls in the corners, hiding from the light, 

And it moves with the moving flame. 

Now my little heart goes a-beating like a drum, 
With the breath of the Bogie in my hair ; 

And all round the candle the crooked shadows come, 
And go marching along up the stair. 

The shadow of the balusters, the shadow of the lamp. 

The shadow of the child that goes to bed — 
All the wicked shadows coming tramp, tramp, tramp, 



With the black night overhead. 



IN PORT. 



Last, to the chamber where I lie 
Aly fearful footsteps patter nigh, 
And come from out the cold and gloom 
Into my warm and cheerful room. 

There, safe arrived, we turn about 
To keep the coming shadows out. 
And close the happy door at last 
On all the perils that we past. 

Then, when mamma goes by to bed, 
She shall come in with tip-toe tread, 
And see me lying warm and fast 
And in the Land of Nod at last. 



THE CHILD ALONE 



THE UNSEEN PLAYMATE 

WHEN children are playing alone on the green 
In comes the playmate that never was seen. 
When children are happy and lonely and good, 
The Friend of the Children comes out of the wood. 

Nobody heard him and nobody saw, 

His is a picture you never could draw, 

But he 's sure to be present, abroad or at home, 

When children are happy and playing alone. 

He lies in the laurels, he runs on the grass. 
He sings when you tinkle the musical glass : 
Whene'er you are happy and cannot tell why, 
The Friend of the Children is sure to be by ! 

He loves to be little, he hates to be big, 
'T is he that inhabits the caves that you dig ; 
'T is he when you play with your soldiers of tin 
That sides with the Frenchmen and never can win. 

'T is he, when at night you go off to your bed, 
Bids vou go to your sleep and not trouble your head ; 
For wherever they 're lying, in cupboard or shelf, 
'T is he will take care of your playthings himself ! 



42 A CHILD'S GARDEN 



II 

MY SHIP AND I 

OIT 'S I that am the captain of a tidy little ship, 
Of a ship that goes a-sailing on the pond ; 
And my ship it keeps a-turning all around and all 

about ; 
But when I 'm a little older, I shall find the secret out 
How to send my vessel sailing on beyond. 

For I mean to grow as little as the dolly at the helm, 

And the dolly I intend to come alive; 
And with him beside to help me, it 's a-sailing I 
shall go, 
* It 's a-sailing on the water, when the jolly breezes 
blow 
And the vessel goes a divie-divie-dive. 

O it 's then you '11 see me sailing through the rushes 
and the reeds, 

And you '11 hear the water singing at the prow ; 
For beside the dolly sailor, I 'm to voyage and explore, 
To land upon the island where no dolly was before, 

And to fire the penny cannon in the bow. 



OFVERSES 43 



III 

MY KINGDOM 

DOWN by a shining water well 
I found a very little dell, 
No higher than my head. 
The heather and the gorse about 
In summer bloom were coming out, 
Some yellow and some red. 

I called the little pool a sea ; 
The little hills were big to me ; 

For I am very small. 
I made a boat, I made a town, 
I searched the caverns up and down, 

And named them one and all. 

And all about was mine, I said. 
The little sparrows overhead. 

The little minnows too. 
This was the world and I was king; 
For me the bees came by to sing. 

For me the swallows flew. 

I played there were no deeper seas, 
Nor any wider plains than these, 

Nor other kings than me. 
At last I heard my mother call 
Out from the house at evenfall, 

To call me home to tea. 



44 A CHILD'S GARDEN 

And I must rise and leave my dell, 
And leave my dimpled water well, 

And leave my heather blooms. 
Alas ! and as my home I neared, 
How very big my nurse appeared, 

How great and cool the rooms ! 



IV 

PICTURE-BOOKS IN \VINTER 

SUMMER fading, winter comes — 
Frosty mornings, tingling thumbs, 
Window robins, winter rooks, 
And the picture story-books. 

Water now is turned to stone 
Nurse and I can w^alk upon ; 
Still we find the flowing brooks 
In the picture story-books. 

All the pretty things put by, 
Wait upon the children's eye, 
Sheep and shepherds, trees and crooks, 
In the picture story-books. 

We may see how all things are, 
Seas and cities, near and far, 
And the flying fairies' looks. 
In the picture story-books. 

How am I to sing your praise, 
Happy chimney-corner days. 
Sitting safe in nursery nooks, 
Reading picture story-books? 



OFVERSES 45 



V 

MY TREASURES 

THESE nuts, that I keep in the back of the nest 
Where all my lead soldiers are lying at rest, 
Were gathered in autumn by nursie and me 
In a wood with a well by the side of the sea. 

This whistle we made (and how clearly it sounds!) 
By the side of a field at the end of the grounds. 
Of a branch of a plane, with a knife of my own, 
It was nursie who made it, and nursie alone ! 

The stone, with the white and the yellow and grey. 
We discovered I cannot tell how far away ; 
And I carried it back although weary and cold. 
For though father denies it, T 'm sure it is gold. 

But of all my treasures the last is the king, 
For there 's very few children possess such a thing ; 
And that is a chisel, both handle and blade, 
Which a man who was really a carpenter made. 



46 A CHILD'S GARDEN 



VI 

BLOCK CITY 

WHAT are you able to build with your blocks ? 
Castles and palaces, temples and docks. 
Rain may keep raining, and others go roam, 
But I can be happy and building at home. 

Let the sofa be mountains, the carpet be sea, 

There I '11 establish a city for me : 

A kirk and a mill and a palace beside. 

And a harbour as well where my vessels may ride. 

Great is the palace with pillar and wall, 
A sort of a tower on the top of it all, 
And steps coming down in an orderly way 
To where my toy vessels lie safe in the bay. 

This one is sailing and that one is moored : 
Hark to the song of the sailors on board ! 
And see on the steps of my palace, the kings 
Coming and going with presents and things ! 

Now I have done with it, down let it go! 
All in a moment the town is laid low. 
Block upon block lying scattered and free, 
What is there left of my town by the sea ? 

Yet as I saw it, I see it again, 
The kirk and the palace, the ships and the men, 
And as long as I live and where'er I may be, 
I '11 always remember my town by the sea. 



OF VERSES 47 



VII 

THE LAND OF STORY-BOOKS 

AT evening when the lamp is Ht, 
' Around the fire my parents sit ; 
They sit at home and talk and sing, 
And do not play at anything. 

Now, with my little gun, I crawl 
All in the dark along the wall. 
And follow round the forest track 
Away behind the sofa back. 

There, in the night, where none can spy, 
All in my hunter's camp I lie, 
And play at books that I have read 
Till it is time to go to bed. 

These are the hills, these are the woods, 
These are my starry solitudes ; 
And there the river by whose brink 
The roaring lions come to drink. 

I see the others far away 
As if in firelit camp they lay. 
And I, like to an Indian scout. 
Around their party prowled about. 

So, when my nurse comes in for me. 
Home I return across the sea. 
And go to bed with backward looks 
At mv dear land of Storv-books. 



48 A CHILD'S GARDEN 



VIII 

ARMIES IN THE FIRE 

THE lamps now glitter down the street; 
Faintly sound the falling feet; 
And the blue even slowly falls 
About the garden trees and walls. 

Now in the falling of the gloom 
The red fire paints the empty room : 
And warmly on the roof it looks, 
And flickers on the backs of books. 

Armies march by tower and spire 
Of cities blazing, in the fire ; — 
Till as I gaze with staring eyes, 
The armies fade, the lustre dies. 

Then once again the glow returns ; 
Again the phantom city burns ; 
And down the red-hot valley, lo ! 
The phantom armies marching go ! 

Blinking embers, tell me true 
Where are those armies marching to, 
And what the burning city is 
That crumbles in your furnaces! 



OFVERSES 49 



IX 

THE LITTLE LAND 

WHEN at home alone I sit 
And am very tired of it, 
I have just to shut my eyes 
To go saiHng" through the skies — 
To go saihng far away 
To the pleasant Land of Play ; 
To the fairy land afar 
Where the Little People are ; 
Where the clover-tops are trees, 
And the rain-pools are the seas, 
And the leaves like little ships 
Sail about on tiny trips ; 
And above the daisy tree 

Through the grasses, 
High o'erhead the Bumble Bee 

Hums and passes. 

In that forest to and fro 

I can wander, I can go ; 

See the spider and the fly. 

And the ants go marching by 

Carrying parcels with their feet 

Down the green and grassy street. 

I can in the sorrel sit 

Where the ladybird alit. 

I can climb the jointed grass ; 

And on high 
See the greater swallows pass 

In the sky. 
And the round sun rolling by 
Heeding^ no such thins^s as I. 



50 A CHILD'S GARDEN 

Through that forest I can pass 
Till, as in a looking-glass, 
Humming fly and daisy tree 
And my tiny self I see. 
Painted very clear and neat 
On the rain-pool at my feet. 
Should a leaflet come to land 
Drifting near to where I stand, 
Straight I '11 board that tiny boat 
Round the rain-pool sea to float. 

Little thoughtful creatures sit 
On the grassy coasts of it ; 
Little things with lovely eyes 
See me sailing with surprise. 
Some are clad in armour green — 
(These have sure to battle been!) — 
Some are pied with ev'ry hue. 
Black and crimson, gold and blue ; 
Some have wings and swift are gone ; 
But they all look kindly on. 

When my eyes I once again 
Open, and see all things plain : 
High bare walls, great bare floor; 
Great big knobs on drawer and door ; 
Great big people perched on chairs. 
Stitching tucks and mending tears, 
Each a hill that I could climb. 
And talking nonsense all the time — 

O dear me. 

That I could be 
A sailor on the rain-pool sea, 
A climber in the clover tree. 
And just come back, a sleepy-head, 
Late at night to go to bed. 



GARDEN DAYS 



NIGHT AND DAY 

WHEN the golden day is done, 
Through the closing portal, 
Child and garden, flower and sun, 
Vanish all things mortal. 

As the blinding shadows fall 

As the rays diminish. 
Under evening's cloak, they all 

Roll away and vanish. 

Garden darkened, daisy shut, 
Child in bed, they slumber - 

Glow-worm in the highway rut, 
Mice among the lumber. 

In the darkness houses shine. 
Parents move with candles ; 

Till on all, the night divine 
Turns the bedroom handles. 

Till at last the day begins 

In the east a-breaking. 
In the hedges and the whins 

Sleeping birds a-waking. 

In the darkness shapes of things, 
Houses, trees and hedges, 

Clearer grow ; and sparrow's wings 
Beat on window ledges. 



54 A CHILD'S GARDEN 

These shall wake the yawning maid ; 

She the door shall open — 
Finding dew on garden glade 

And the morning broken. 

There my garden grows again 
Green and rosy painted, 

As at eve behind the pane 
From my eyes it fainted. 

Just as it was shut away, 

Toy-like, in the even. 
Here I see it glow with day 

Under glowing heaven. 

Every path and every plot, 

Every bush of roses, 
Every blue forget-me-not 

Where the dew reposes, 

" Up ! " they cry, " the day is come 
On the smiling valleys: 

We have beat the morning drum ; 
Playmate, join your allies ! " 



OF VERSES SS 



11 

NEST EGGS 

BIRDS all the sunny day 
Flutter and quarrel 
Here in the arbour-like 
Tent of the laurel. 

Here in the fork 

The brown nest is seated ; 
Four little blue eg-gs 

The mother keeps heated. 



While we stand watching her, 

Staring like gabies, 
Safe in each Qgg are the 

Bird's little babies. 



Soon the frail eggs they shall 
Chip, and upspringing, 

Make all the April woods 
Merry with singing. 

Younger than we are, 
O children, and frailer, 

Soon in blue air they 'II be, 
Singer and sailor. 

We, so much older. 
Taller and stronger. 

We shall look down on the 
Birdies no longer. 



S6 A CHILD'S GARDEN 

They shall go flying 
With musical speeches 

High overhead in the 
Tops of the beeches. 

In spite of onr wisdom 
And sensible talking, 

We on our feet must go 
Plodding and walking. 



Ill 

THE FLOWERS 

ALL the names I know from nurse : 
. Gardener's garters, Shepherd's purse, 
Bachelor's buttons. Lady's smock, 
And the Lady Hollyhock. 

Fairy places, fairy things, 

Fairy woods where the wild bee wings, 

Tiny trees for tiny dames — 

These must all be fairy names ! 

Tiny woods below whose boughs 
Shady fairies weave a house ; 
Tiny tree-tops, rose or thyme. 
Where the braver fairies climb! 

Fair are grown-up people's trees, 
But the fairest woods are these ; 
Where if I were not so tall, 
I should live for good and all. 



OFVERSES 57 



IV 

SUMMER SUN 

GREAT is the sun, and wide he goes 
Through empty heaven without repose ; 
And in the blue and glowing days 
More thick than rain he showers his rays. 

Though closer still the blinds we pull 
To keep the shady parlour cool, 
Yet he will find a chink or two 
To slip his golden fingers through. 

The dusty attic spider-clad 
He, through the keyhole, maketh glad ; 
And through the broken edge of tiles, 
Into the laddered hay-loft smiles. 

Meantime his golden face around 
He bares to all the garden ground. 
And sheds a warm and glittering look 
Among the ivy's inmost nook. 

Above the hills, along the blue, 
Round the bright air with footing true. 
To please the child, to paint the rose. 
The gardener of the World, he goes. 



58 A CHILD'S GARDEN 



V 

THE DUMB SOLDIER 

WHEN the grass was closely mown, 
Walking on the lawn alone, 
In the turf a hole I found 
And hid a soldier underground. 

Spring and daisies came apace ; 
Grasses hide my hiding place ; 
Grasses run like a green sea 
O'er the lawn up to my knee. 

Under grass alone he lies, 
Looking up with leaden eyes. 
Scarlet coat and pointed gun. 
To the stars and to the sun. 

When the grass is ripe like grain, 
When the scythe is stoned again. 
When the lawn is shaven clear, 
Then my hole shall reappear. 

I shall find him, never fear, 
I shall find my grenadier ; 
But for all that 's gone and come, 
I shall find my soldier dumb. 

Me has lived, a little thing, 
In the grassy woods of spring ; 
Done, if he could tell me true, 
lust as I should like to do. 



OFVERSES 59 

He has seen the starry hours 
And the springing of the flowers ; 
And the fairy things that pass 
In the forests of the grass. 

In the silence he has heard 
Talking bee and ladybird, 
And the butterfly has flown 
O'er him as he lay alone. 

Not a word will he disclose, 
Not a word of all he knows, 
I must lay him on the shelf, 
And make up the tale myself. 



VI 

AUTUMN FIRES 

IN the other gardens 
And all up the vale. 
From the autumn bonfires 
See the smoke trail ! 

Pleasant summer over 

And all the summer flowers, 
The red fire blazes, 

The grey smoke towers. 

Sing a song of seasons ! 

Something 1)nght in all ! 
Flowers in the summer, 

Fires in the fall ! 



6o A CHILD'S GARDEN 

VII 

THE GARDENER 

THE gardener docs not love to talk, 
He makes me keep the gravel walk 
And when he puts his tools away, 
He locks the door and takes the key. 

Away behind the currant row 
Where no one else but cook may go, 
Far in the plots, I see him dig, 
Old and serious, brown and big. 

He digs the flowers, green, red, and blue, 
Nor wishes to be spoken to. 
He digs the flowers and cuts the hay, 
And never seems to want to play. 

Silly gardener! summer goes. 
And winter comes with pinching toes. 
When in the garden bare and brown 
You must lay your barrow down. 

Well now, and while the summer stays, 
To profit by these garden days, 
O how much wiser you would be 
To play at Indian wars with me ! 



OFVERSES 6i 



VIII 

HISTORICAL ASSOCIATIONS 

DEAR Uncle Jim, this garden ground 
That now you smoke your pipe around, 
Has seen immortal actions done 
And valiant battles lost and won. 

Here we had best on tip-toe tread, 
While I for safety march ahead, 
For this is that enchanted ground 
Where all who loiter slumber sound. 

Here is the sea, here is the sand, 
Here is simple Shepherd's Land, 
Here are the fairy hollyhocks, 
And there are Ali Baba's rocks. 

But yonder, see! apart and high, 
Frozen Siberia lies ; where I, 
With Robert Bruce and William Tell, 
Was bound by an enchanter's spell. 



ENVOYS 



TO WILLIE AND HENRIETTA 

F two may read aright 
These rhymes of old dehght 
And house and garden play, 
You two, my cousins, and you only, may. 



I 



You in a garden green 
With me were king and queen. 
Were hunter, soldier, tar, 
And all the thousand thinofs that children are. 



^&^ 



Now in the elders' seat 
We rest with quiet feet. 
And from the window-bay 
We watch the children, our successors, play. 

'' Time was," the golden head 
Irrevocably said ; 
But time which none can bind, 
\Miile flowing fast away, leaves love behind. 



66 A CHILD'S GARDEN 



II 

TO MY MOTHER 

YOU too, my mother, read my rhymes 
For love of unforgotten times, 
And you may chance to hear once more 
The Uttle feet along the floor. 



Ill 

TO AUNTIE 

CHIEF of our aunts — not only I, 
But all your dozen of nurselings cry 
What did the other children do? 
And what were childhood, wanting you? 



OFV ERSES 67 



IV 

TO MINNIE 

THE red room with the giant bed 
Where none but elders laid their head 
The little room where you and I 
Did for awhile together lie 
And, simple suitor, I your hand 
In decent marriage did demand; 
The great day nursery, best of all, 
With pictures pasted on the wall 
And leaves upon the blind — 
A pleasant room wherein to wake 
And hear the leafy garden shake 
And rustle in the wind — 
And pleasant there to lie in bed 
And see the pictures overhead — 
The wars about Sebastopol, 
The grinning guns along the wall, 
The daring escalade, 
The plunging ships, the bleating sheep, 
The happy children ankle-deep 
And laughing as they wade : 
All these are vanished clean away. 
And the old manse is changed to-day; 
It wears an altered face 
And shields a stranger race. 

The river, on from mill to mill, 
Flows past our childhood's garden still ; 
But ah ! we children never more 
Shall watch it from the water-door ! 



68 A CHILD'S GARDEN 

Below the yew — it still is there — 
Our phantom voices haunt the air 
As we were still at play, 
And I can hear them call and say : 
" How far is it to Baby Ion f " 

Ah, far enough, my dear. 

Far, far enough from here — 

Yet you have farther gone ! 

'' Can I get there by candlelight? " 

So goes the old refrain. 

I do not know — perchance you might — 

But only, children, hear it right. 

Ah, never to return again ! 

The eternal dawn, beyond a doubt. 

Shall break on hill and plain. 

And put all stars and candles out 

Ere we be young again. 

To you in distant India, these 

I send across the seas. 

Nor count it far across. 

For which of us forgets 

The Indian cabinets. 

The bones of antelope, the wings of albatross, 

The pied and painted birds and beans. 

The junks and bangles, beads and screens, 

The gods and sacred bells. 

And the loud-humming, twisted shells! 

The level of the parlour floor 

Was honest, homely, Scottish shore ; 

But when we climbed upon a chair. 

Behold the gorgeous East was there! 

Be this a fable ; and behold 

Me in the parlour as of old, 



OFVERSES Gc) 

And Minnie just above me set 
In the quaint Indian cabinet ! 
Smiling- and kind, you grace a shelf 
Too high for me to reach myself. 
Reach down a hand, my dear, and take 
These rhymes for old acquaintance' sake! 



70 A CHILD'S GARDEN 



V 

TO MY NAME-CHILD 
I 

SOME day soon this rhyming volume, if you learn 
with proper speed, 
Little Louis Sanchez, will be given you to read. 
Then shall you discover, that your name was printed 

down 
By the English printers, long before, in London town. 

In the great and busy city where the East and West 

are met, 
All the little letters did the English printer set ; 
While you thought of nothing, and were still too 

young to play, 
Foreign people thought of you in places far away. 

Ay, and while you slept, a baby, over all the English 

lands 
Other little children took the volume in their hands ; 
Other children questioned, in their homes across the 

seas: 
Who was little Louis, won't you tell us, mother, 

please? 

Now that you have spelt your lesson, lay it down and 

go and play, 
Seeking shells and seaweed on the sands of Monterey, 
Watching all the mighty whalebones, lying buried by 

the breeze. 
Tiny sandy-pipers, and the huge Pacific seas. 



OF VERSES 71 

And remember in your playing, as the sea-fog rolls to 

you, 
Long ere you could read it, how I told you what to do ; 
And that while you thought of no one, nearly half the 

world away 
Some one thought of Louis on the beach of Monterey ! 



VI 

TO ANY READER 

AS from the house your mother sees 
■ You playing round the garden trees, 
So you may see, if you will look 
Through the windows of this book, 
Another child, far, far away, 
And in another garden, play. 
But do not think you can at all. 
By knocking on the window, call 
That child to hear you. He intent 
Is all on his play-business bent. 
He does not hear ; he will not look. 
Nor yet be lured out of this book. 
For, long ago, the truth to say, 
He has grown up and gone away. 
And it is but a child of air 
That lingers in the garden there. 



UNDERWOODS AND BALLADS 



PREFACE 

TO 

THE BIOGRAPHICAL EDITION 

OF 

UNDERWOODS AND BALLADS 

VERY few of my husband's poems were con- 
ceived with any other purpose than the 
entertainment of the moment. " The 
Scotsman's Return from Abroad " was written to 
amuse his father when we were stopping with the 
family in Strathpeffer, a dreary " hydropathic " in 
the Highlands. Seven years after, in August, 1887, 
we were summoned by telegram to Edinburgh, 
where my father-in-law was fighting death inch by 
inch. His memory gone, his reason shattered, noth- 
ing remained but his determined will. It was a 
terrible figure we found sitting grimly in the draw- 
ing-room of the house at Heriot Row; for it was 
not until an hour or two before his death, on the 
evening of our arrival, that he could be persuaded 
to lie upon his bed, and then only after a narcotic 
had been administered. 

Copyright, 1905, by Charles Scribner's Sons 



76 PREFACE 

During the gloomy days that followed, my hus- 
band, who occupied the rooms that had been set 
apart for him in his boyhood, with the many evi- 
dences of his father's affection surrounding him on 
every side, — the books on the shelves, the childish 
toys still sacredly cherished, — found that he must 
turn his thoughts into other channels, or he would 
be unable to fulfil the duties that now devolved 
upon him. He resolutely sat himself at his desk 
and wrote the ballad of Ticonderoga, the theme of 
which had already been discussed with his father 
before that fine intellect had become obscured by 
the clouds that settled round his last days. 

The verses entitled " A Portrait," so unlike 
anything else my husband ever wrote, do not ex- 
plain themselves, and must have puzzled many of 
his readers. He had just finished, with wondering 
disgust, a book of poems in the most musical Eng- 
lish, but excessively morbid and unpleasant in sen- 
timent. His criticisms were generally sympathetic 
and kind ; but this '' battener upon garbage " with 
his " air of saying grace " was more than my hus- 
band could endure, and in the first heat of his 
indignation he wrote " A Portrait." 

It is said that when Mr. Kipling is heard hum- 
ming a tune he is supposed to be composing a poem 
to fit the music. I think my husband must have 
used something of the same method, for in his 
library I found, among others, these verses written 
out to airs that had pleased him : 



PREFACE 



77 



THE STORMY EVENING 
Air after Oldfield 



± 



Spiritoso. 



^^ 



1^ 



The stormy evenuig clos-es now in vain; 



m 



j octave below. 



P 



m 



-V H- 



:»£ 



Loud wails the wind and beats the driv - ing rain. While 



D ** — 




— ^ -A 


— V- 


— 1— =1- 


==h; 


:=^- 


-?^ 


— K 


-t 


-^ N — 


b^:zz 




— ^— 1— 

-0—0— 


-H^ 




-0- 








-0- 


1-^ — 



here in shel-tered house with fire - y-paiuted walls, I 
cresc. ^^ .^^ f 



— — ^ — ^ _j_ — K — b* — •— — ^^ — 



hear the wind a- broad, I hark the calling squalls."Blow, 



L^: 



?^% 






-^— -- 



blow," I cry, "you burst your cheeks in vain! 
P grazioso. :zm===^ 



ii^ 



- 1^ # — — 



Blow, blow," I cry, " my love is home a - gain. Blow, 



5=i= 



A 1- 



'Szrrtz 



P=^ 



1 



blow," I cry, " my love is home a - gain." 



78 



PREFACE 



"WE HAVE LIVED AND LOVED. 
Air after Diabelli — op. 1 68, N'o. I. 
Andante expressiso. 



:^£eEi 






-1 h- 



■^=^E^E^-. 



fj 



Ber - ried braked and reed - y 



is - land, Heav'n be- 



-^=f=F=^- 



A— ^■ 



\ #--5 0- 



■^&< 



^-v-*: 






low and on - ly heav'n a -bove,Through the skies' in- vert - ed 



: ;^E^=^^i=i^^E^-^^^EES:^^ 



Soft - ly swam the boat that 



I 



-U 



-t 



bore our love. 



Dear were your eyes as the 



[=1=q'?::«Lv:^zlr=^a=^ 



-J=.izf:^=»:jit 



^-fcj^rJ: 



-•— 



f:^ 



day ; Bright ran the stream, bright hung the sky above. Days of 






j=;i^g-Hy-^ 



:^tt^=i 



:t=tt 



A - pril, airs of E - den; How the glo - ry died through 



i^^^^ 



i=\: 



:t=4: 



gol - den hours And the shi - ning moon a - ris - ing, 






-^-H-h-P-g-g -g-^-^- j^^::^ 



V— i/^ 






How the boat drew homeward fill'd with flow'rs! Bright were your eyes in the 



S^Eii^^iS^*^^^ia 



night: We have lived, my love, O we have loved, my k 



PREFACE 



79 



The writing of '^ Over the Sea to Skye " grew 
out of a visit from one of the last of the old school 
of Scots gentlewomen, Miss Ferrier, a grand- 
daughter of Professor Wilson (Christopher North). 
Her singing was a great delight to my husband, 
who would beg for song after song, especially the 
Jacobite airs, which had always to be repeated 
several times. The words to one of these seemed 
unworthy, so he made a new set of verses more in 
harmony with the plaintive tune: 



OVER THE SEA TO SKYE. 
Gaelic Air. 




Animato. 



A— •- 



Sing me a song 


of a lad that is gone, 


■ (;■ Tj. p J^ ,'^ 




s. 


V m ^ a N 


1 •'l H \» 


1. \ ■. i ' 


f\ • • # * P 


1 ' ' , -^ 


1^ 1 1^ « m 


\ ) M 2 






%) 


m 


• • 



Say, could that lad be I ? 



Merry of soul, he 
Fine. 



-#-^-^— ^ — \ 



:i 



-=^-^- 



-#-— 



sailed on a day 



O - ver the sea to Skye. 



ii 



Mull was 



Egg on the port, 




Rum on the starboard bow : 



Glo - ry of youth 



8o 



PREFACE 



i 



fcdv 



i 



-=4-^- 



glowed in his soul. Where is that glo - ry now? 

The " Spae Wife " may have been due to uncon- 
scious memory. In the Scotland of my husband's 
childhood, nurses sometimes crooned to their 
charges ancient airs whose origin is forgotten, and 
whose words were long ago lost. A Scotsman, 
Mr. George St. J. Bremner, of San Francisco, has 
kindly written out one that perfectly corresponds 
with the peculiar movement of the poem. He says : 
*' This melody, I firmly believe, must have been 
running through Mr. Stevenson's head when he 
wrote the ' Spae Wife.' If ever words and music 
were especially adapted to each other, certainly 
this melody and the song fit each other like hand 
and glove. The upward cadence of the first three 
lines, suiting so exactly with the interrogative char- 
acter of the words, and the coarse downward 
cadence of the last, suiting so exactly with the 
noncommittal answer of the * Spae Wife,' leave no 
room for doubt but that a reminiscence of one of 
' Cummy's ' lilts was haunting him at the time." 



^; 



^ 



^^: 



F#^ 


O 


-A- 


I wad 


like to 


ken, 


to 

— N N- 

— i H— 


the 






— 1 — 


_H _-^ 


3--4* 




—0 — 


-•--j 



beg - gar wife says I, Why chops are guid to 



PREFACE 



8i 



i 



=2 



E5^^ 



i^^ 



bran - der, 


and 


nane sae guid to 


fry, 


An' 


9 1 ^ 




e 


1 


/\ '% w P fi 


__ *. ._ 


. m 


« 1 




« 


\\) 1 i 


1 J 1^ 1 1 




ij 


^ 


b ^ 


^ 


b^ 1 


ty 















sil ■ 

Ok N 


ler, that 's 


sae 

1 


braw 


to keep, is 




7,7 p 


N N 


1 *^ 




^ 


^.-^->^— ;— 


_H p» ^— 




-4 


^? — ^ — ^ — ir- 




1 '^ 


*- « • 






' ' r ^--P 



li§ 



bra - wer still to gie, It 's gey an' eas - y 



I 



^ -^ -^ - -^ .^- -^ _^ 

spier - in', says the beg - gar wife to me. 



An itinerary of my husband's wanderings might 
almost be drawn from his collected poems. "The 
Song of Rahero " was first inspired by the conver- 
sation of the Princess Moe in Tautira, a village 
lying on the Tiarapu peninsula of Tahiti. Here we 
lived for several months, the guests of the princess 
and the chief Ori, with whom my husband '' made 
brothers " in the island fashion. Although Moe 
was then grandmother to several tall girls, she was 
still beautiful, with much of the grace and charm 
of youth. It happened, while we were in Tautira, 
there was some legal question to be settled concern- 
ing lands, belonging to the princess, that lay in the 
country of Tiarapu. In discussing the matter she 
touched on the tradition of Rahero, jestingly calling 
herself Ahupu Vehine. My husband, deeply inter- 



82 PREFACE 

ested, drew from her all she could tell him of the 
story, afterwards corroborated and enriched by the 
high chief Tati, whom we visited at Papora. 

My husband found the change from his usual 
work so restful and pleasant that he was encour- 
aged to attempt another South Sea ballad, the scene 
to be laid in the Marquesas. This ballad, begun in 
Tautira, was finished on board the yacht Casco, 
between Tahiti and Plawaii, amid every possible 
discomfort. Our provisions (all we could get in 
Tahiti) were scant and bad ; we carried a hurricane 
barometer all the way, and were constantly beset by 
squalls and baffling winds. For two days we lay 
becalmed off Oahu, the tantalising sight of land 
before our eyes. During the time we spent in 
Tautira we lived almost entirely on native food; 
this, followed by thirty days of decayed beef and 
stale biscuits, reduced us to a state of semi-starva- 
tion. I shall never forget our first dinner on shore 
at Honolulu, with its roasts and potatoes and celery, 
and that 

" Rose among roots, the maiden fair, 
Wine scented and poetic soul 
Of the capacious salad bowl." 

F. V. DE G. S. 



UNDERWOODS 



Of all my verse ^ like not a single line ; 

But like 7ny title, for it is not jnine. 

That title from a better man I stole : 

Ahj how much better ^ had I stoV7i the whole / 



DEDICATION 



There are men and classes of men that stand above the common 
herd : the soldier, the sailor, and the shepherd not unfrequently ; the 
artist rarely ; rarelier still, the clergyman ; the physician almost as 
a rule. He is the flower (such as it is) of our civilisation; and when 
that stage of man is done with, and only remembered to be mar- 
velled at in history, he will be thought to have shared as little as 
any in the defects of the period, and most notably exhibited the 
virtues of the race. Generosity he has, such as is possible to those 
who practise an art, never to those who drive a trade ; discretion, 
tested by a hundred secrets ; tact, tried in a thousand embarrass- 
ments; and what are more important, Heraclean cheerfulness and 
courage. So it is that he brings air and cheer into the sick-room, 
and often enough, though not so often as he wishes, brings healing. 

Gratitude is but a lame sentiment ; thanks, when they are ex- 
pressed, are often more embarrassing than welcome; and yet I must 
set forth mine to a few out of many doctors who have brought me 
comfort and help: to Dr. Willey of San Francisco, whose kindness 
to a stranger it must be as grateful to him, as it is touching to me, 
to remember; to Dr. Karl Ruedi of Davos, the good genius of the 
English in his frosty mountains; to Dr. Herbert of Paris, whom I 
knew only for a week, and to Dr. Caissot of Montpellier, whom I 
knew only for ten days, and who have yet written their names deeply 
in my memory ; to Dr. Brandt of Royat ; to Dr. Wakefield of 
Nice; to Dr. Chepnell, whose visits make it a pleasure to be ill; 
to Dr. Horace Dobell, so wise in counsel; to Sir Andrew Clark, 
so unwearied in kindness ; and to that wise youth, my uncle, Dr. 
Balfour. 

I forget as many as I remember; and I ask both to pardon me, 
these for silence, those for inadequate speech. But one name I 
have kept on purpose to the last, because it is a household word 
with me, and because if I had not received favours from so many 



86 DEDICATION 

hands and in so many quarters of the world, it should have stood 
upon this page alone : that of my friend Thomas Bodley Scott of 
Bournemouth. Will he accept this, although shared among so 
many, for a dedication to himself ? and when next my ill-fortune 
(which has thus its pleasant side) brings him hurrying to me when 
he would fain sit down to meat or lie down to rest, will he care to 
remember that he takes this trouble for one who is not fool enough 
to be ungrateful ? 

R. L. S. 

Skerr\'vore, 

Bournemouth. 



NOTE 



The human conscience has fled of late the troublesome domain of 
conduct for what I should have supposed to be the less congenial 
field of art : there she may now be said to rage, and with special 
severity in all that touches dialect; so that in every novel the letters 
of the alphabet are tortured, and the reader wearied, to commemo- 
rate shades of mispronunciation. Now spelling is an art of great 
difficulty in my eyes, and I am inclined to lean upon the printer, even 
in common practice, rather than to venture abroad upon new quests. 
And the Scots tongue has an orthography of its own, lacking neither 
" authority nor author." Yet the temptation is great to lend a little 
guidance to the bewildered Englishman. Some simple phonetic ar- 
tifice might defend your verses from barbarous mishandling, and 
yet not injure any vested interest. So it seems at first; but there 
are rocks ahead. Thus, if I wish the diphthong oit to have its proper 
value, I may write oor instead of oicr ; many have done so and lived, 
and the pillars of the universe remained unshaken. But if I did so, 
and came presently to doun, which is the classical Scots spelling of 
the English down, I should begin to feel uneasy; and if I went on 
a little farther, and came to a classical Scots word, like stour or dour 
or clour, I should know precisely where I was — that is to say, that 
I was out of sight of land on those high seas of spelling reform in 
which so many strong swimmers have toiled vainly. To some the 
situation is exhilarating ; as for me, I give one bubbling; cry and sink. 
The compromise at which I have arrived is indefensible, and I have 
no thought of trying to defend it. As I have stuck for the most part 
to the proper spelling, I append a table of some common vowel 
sounds which no one need consult ; and just to prove that I belong 
to my age and have in me the stuff of a reformer, I have used modi- 
fication marks throughout. Thus I can tell myself, not without 



88 NOTE 

pride, that I have added a fresh stumbling-block for English readers, 
and to a page of print in my native tongue, have lent a new uiv 
couthness. Sed non nobis. 

I note again, that among our new dialecticians, the local habitat 
of every dialect is given to the square mile. I could not emulate 
this nicety if I desired ; for I simply wrote my Scots as well as I was 
able, not caring if it hailed from Lauderdale or Angus, from the 
Mearns or Galloway ; if I had ever heard a good word, I used it 
without shame ; and when Scots was lacking, or the rhyme jibbed, 
I was glad (like my betters) to fall back on English. For all that, I 
own to a friendly feeling for the tongue of Fergusson and of Sir Wal- 
ter, both Edinburgh men; and I confess that Burns has always 
sounded in my ear like something partly foreign. And indeed I am 
from the Lothians myself; it is there I heard the language spoken 
about my childhood ; and it is in the drawling Lothian voice that I 
repeat it to myself. Let the precisians call my speech that of the 
Lothians. And if it be not pure, alas ! what matters it ? The day 
draws near when this illustrious and malleable tongue shall be quite 
forgotten; and Burns's Ayrshire, and Dr. MacDonald's Aberdeen 
awa', and Scott's brave, metropolitan utterance will be all equally 
the ghosts of speech. Till then I would love to have my hour as a 
native Maker, and be read by my own countryfolk in our own dying 
language: an ambition surely rather of the heart than of the head, 
so restricted as it is in prospect of endurance, so parochial in 
bounds of space. 



CONTENTS 

Book I 

IN ENGLISH 

Page 

I Envoy : Go, Little Book i 

II A Song OF THE Road: The Gauger walked 98 

III The Canoe speaks: On the Great Streams 99 

IV It is the Season 100 

V The House Beautiful: A Naked House, a 

Naked Moor loi 

VI A Visit from the Sea: Far from the Loud 

Sea Beaches . . 103 

VII To A Gardener: Friend, in my Mountain- 
side Demesne 104 

VHI To Minnie: A Picture-Frame for you to 

FILL 105 

IX To K. de M.: A Lover of the Moorland 

Bare 106 

X To N. V. de G. S.: The Unfathomable Sea 107 
XI To Will H. Low : Youth now flees . . . 108 
XII To Mrs. Will H. Low: Even in the Bluest 

Noonday of July 109 

XIII To H. F. Brown: I sit and wait . . . . iio 

XIV To Andrew Lang: Dear Andrew . . . . in 
XV Et tu in Arcadia Vixisti: In Ancient 

Tales, O Friend 112 

XVI To W. E. Henley : The Year runs through 

her Phases 115 

XVII Henry James: Who comes To-night . , • 116 



90 CONTENTS 

Page 
XVIII The Mirror speaks: Where the Bells 117 
XIX Katharine; We see you as we see a 

Face 118 

XX To F. J. S. : I READ, Dear Friend . . 118 
XXI Requiem : Under the Wide and Starry 

Sky 119 

XXII The Celestial Surgeon: If I have 

faltered 119 

XXIII Our Lady of the Snows: Out of the 

Sun 120 

XXIV Not yet, my Soul 122 

XXV It is not yours, O Mother, to complain 124 

XXVI The Sick Child: O Mother, lay your 

Hand on my Brow 126 

XXVII In Memoriam F. A. S. : Yet, O Stricken 

Heart 127 

XXVIII To my Father: Peace and her Huge 

Invasion 128 

XXIX In THE States: With Half a Heart . 129 
XXX A Portrait : I am a Kind of Farthing 

Dip 130 

XXXI Sing Clearlier, Muse 131 

XXXII A Camp: The Bed was made .... 131 
XXXIII The Country of the Camisards : We 
travelled in the Print of Olden 

Wars 132 

XXXIV Skerryvore: For Love of Lovely 

Words 132 

XXXV Skerryvore : The Parallel : Here all 

is Sunny 133 

XXXVI My House, I say 133 

XXXVII My Body which my Dungeon is ... 134 
XXXVIII Say not of me that weakly I declined 135 



CONTENTS 91 

Book II 

IN SCOTS 

Page 

Table of Common Scottish Vowel Sounds . 138 

I The Maker to Posterity: Far 'yont amang 

THE Years to be 139 

II Ille Terrarum: Frae Nirly, Nippin', 

Eas'lan' Breeze 141 

III When aince Aprile HAS fairly come ... 144 

IV A Mile an' a Bittock I45 

V A Lowden Sabbath Morn: The Clinkum- 

clank o' Sabbath Bells 146 

VI TheSpaewife: O, I wad like to ken ... 151 
VII The Blast, 1875: It's rainin'. Weet 's the 

Gairden Sod 152 

VIII The Counterblast, 1886: My Bonny Man, 

THE Warld, IT 's True 154 

IX The Counterblast Ironical: It's Strange 

THAT God should fash to Frame .... 156 
X Their Laureate to an Academy Class Din- 
ner Club: Dear Thamson Class,whaure'er 

I gang 158 

XI Embro Hie Kirk : The Lord himsel' in For- 
mer Days 160 

XII The Scotsman's Return from Abroad: In 

mony a Foreign Pairt I've been .... 163 

XIII Late IN the Nicht 167 

XIV My Conscience: Of a' the Ills that Flesh 

CAN FEAR 170 

XV To Doctor John Brown: By Lyne and Tyne, 

BY Thames and Tees 172 

XVI It's an Owercome Sooth for Age an' 

Youth i74 



92 CONTENTS 



Book III 

BEING SONGS OF TRAVEL AND OTHER VERSES 
WRITTEN PRINCIPALLY IN THE SOUTH 

SEAS, 1888-1S94 

Page 
I The Vagabond : Give to me the Life I 

LOVE -177 

II Youth and Love: I: Once only by the 

Garden Gate 178 

III Youth and Love: II: To the Heart of 

Youth 179 

IV The Unforgotten : I : In Dreams, Unhappy 179 
V The Unforgotten: II: She rested by 

the Broken Brook 180 

VI The Infinite Shining Heavens .... 180 
VII Madrigal: Plain as the Glistering Plan- 
ets 181 

VIII To YOU, let Snow and Roses 182 

IX Let Beauty awake 183 

X I know not how it is with you .... 183 

XI I will make you Brooches and Toys . . 184 
XII We have loved of Yore : Berried Brake 

AND Reedy Island 185 

XIII Ditty: The Cock shall crow 186 

XIV Mater Triumphans: Son of my Woman's 

Body 186 

XV Bright is the Ring of Words 187 

XVI In the Highlands, in the Country Places 18S 

XVII Wandering Willie : Home no more Home 189 

XVIII To Dr. Hake: In the Beloved Hour . . 190 

^XIX To : I Knew thee Strong 191 

XX The Morning Drum-Call 192 



CONTENTS 93 

Page 
XXI I HAVE TROD I92 

XXII He hears with Gladdened Heart. . 192 
XXIII The Lost Occasion: Farewell, Fair 

Day 193 

^XXIV If this were Faith : God, if this were 

enough 194 

' XXV My Wife : Trusty, Dusky, Vivid, True 195 
XXVI Winter: In Rigorous Hours .... 196 
XXVII The Stormy Evening closes .... 197 
XXVIII To AN Island Princess: Since long 

ago 198 

XXIX To Kalakaua : The Silver Ship, my 

King 200 

XXX To Princess Kaiulani : Forth from her 

Land 201 

XXXI To Mother Maryanne : To see the 

Infinite Pity 202 

XXXII In Memoriam, E. H. : I knew a Silver 

Head 203 

XXXIII To MY Wife: Long must elapse ere 

you 204 

XXXIV To THE Muse: Resign the Rhapsody . 205 
XXXV To MY Old Familiars: Do you remem- 
ber 206 

XXXVI The Tropics vanish 207 

XXXVII To S. C. : I HEARD THE PULSE . . . . 2o8 

XXXVIII The House of Tembinoka: Let us, v/ho 

part 210 

XXXIX The Woodman : In all the Grove . . 215 
XL Tropic Rain: As the Single Pang of 

THE Blow 219 

XLI An End of Travel: Let now your 

Soul 220 



94 CONTENTS 

Page 

XLII We Uncommiserate pass 221 

XLIII The Last Sight: Once more I saw him . 221 

XLIV Sing me a Song 222 

XLV To S. R. Crockett: Blows the Wind To- 
day 223 

XLVI Evensong: The Embers of the Day . . 224 



BOOK I 
IN ENGLISH 



I 

ENVOY 

GO, little book, and wish to all 
Flowers in the garden, meat in the hall, 
A bin of wine, a spice of wit, 
A house with lawns enclosing it, 
A living river by the door, 
A nightingale in the sycamore! 



98 UNDERWOODS 



T 



II 

A SONG OF THE ROAD 



HE ganger walked with willing foot, 



And aye the ganger played the flute 
And what shonld Master Ganger play 
Bnt Over the hills and far aivay f 

Whene'er I buckle on my pack 
And foot it gaily in the track, 

pleasant ganger, long since dead, 

1 hear you fluting on ahead. 

You go with me the self-same way — 
The self-same air for me you play ; 
For I do think and so do you 
It is the tune to travel to. 

For who would gravely set his face 
To go to this or t'other place ? 
There 's nothing under heav'n so blue 
That 's fairly worth the travelling to. 

On every hand the roads begin, 
And people walk with zeal therein ; 
But wheresoe'er the highways tend, 
Be sure there 's nothing at the end. 

Then follow you, wherever hie 
The travelling mountains of the sky. 
Or let the streams in civil mode 
Direct your choice upon a road ; 



UNDERWOODS 

For one and all, or high or low, 
Will lead you where you wish to go ; 
And one and all go night and day 
Over the hills and far away! 

Forest of Montakgis, 1878. 



Ill 

THE CANOE SPEAKS 

ON the great streams the ships may go 
About men's business to and fro. 
But I, the egg-shell pinnace, sleep 
On crystal waters ankle-deep : 
I, whose diminutive design, 
Of sweeter cedar, pithier pine, 
Is fashioned on so frail a mould, 
A hand may launch, a hand withhold : 
I, rather, with the leaping trout 
Wind, among lilies, in and out; 
I, the unnamed, inviolate, 
Green, rustic rivers, navigate ; 
My dipping paddle scarcely shakes 
The berry in the bramble-brakes ; 
Still forth on my green way I wend 
Beside the cottage garden-end ; 
And by the nested angler fare. 
And take the lovers unaware. 
By willow wood and water-wheel 
Speedily fleets my touching keel ; 
By all retired and shady spots 
Where prosper dim forget-me-nots ; 
By meadows where at afternoon 
The growing maidens troop in June 

LOfC. 



99 



loo UNDERWOODS 

To loose their girdles on the grass. 
Ah ! speedier than before the glass 
The backward toilet goes ; and swift 
As swallows quiver, robe and shift 
And the rough country stocking-s lie 
Around each young divinity. 
When, following the recondite brook, 
Sudden upon this scene I look, 
And light with unfamiliar face 
On chaste Diana's bathing-place, 
Loud ring the hills about and all 
The shallows are abandoned. . . . 



IV 

IT is the season now to go 
About the country high and low, 
Among the lilacs hand in hand, 
And two by two in fairy land. 

The brooding boy, the sighing maid, 
Wholly fain and half afraid. 
Now meet along the hazel'd brook 
To pass and linger, pause and look. 

A year ago, and blithely paired, 
Their rough-and-tumble play they shared ; 
They kissed and quarrelled, laughed and cried, 
A year ago at Eastertide. 

With bursting heart, with fiery face, 

She strove against him in the race ; 

He unabashed her garter saw, 

That now would touch her skirts with awe. 



UNDERWOODS loi 

Now by the stile ablaze she stops, 
And his demurer eyes he drops ; 
Now they exchange averted sighs 
Or stand and marry silent eyes. 

And he to her a hero is 
And sweeter she than primroses ; 
Tlieir common silence dearer far 
Than nightingale or mavis are. 

Now when they sever wedded hands, 
Joy trembles in their bosom-strands, 
And lovely laughter leaps and falls 
Upon their lips in madrigals. 



THE HOUSE BEAUTIFUL 

yj NAKED house, a naked moor, 
.^J. A shivering pool before the door, 
A garden bare of Hozvers and fruit 
And poplars at the garden foot: 
Such is the place that I live in, 
Bleak zvithout and bare within. 

Yet shall your ragged moor receive 
The incomparable pomp of eve, 
And the cold glories of the dawn 
Behind your shivering trees be drawn ; 
And when the wind from place to place 
Doth the unmoored cloud-galleons chase, 
Your garden gloom and gleam again. 
With leaping sun, with glancing rain. 



I02 UNDERWOODS 

Here shall the wizard moon ascend 
The heavens, in the crimson end 
Of day's declining splendour; here 
The army of the stars appear. 
The neighbour hollows dry or wet, 
Spring shall with tender flowers beset ; 
And oft the morning muser see 
Larks rising from the broomy lea. 
And every fairy wheel and thread 
Of cobweb dew-bediamonded. 
When daisies go, shall winter time 
Silver the simple grass with rime ; 
Autumnal frosts enchant the pool 
And make the cart-ruts beautiful ; 
And when snow-bright the moor expands, 
How shall your children clap their hands! 
To make this earth, our hermitage, 
A cheerful and a changeful page, 
God's bright and intricate device 
Of davs and seasons doth suffice. 



UNDERWOODS 103 



VI 

A VISIT FROM THE SEA 

FAR from the loud sea beaches 
Where he goes fishing and crying, 
Here in the inland garden 
Why is the sea-gull flying? 

Here are no fish to dive for ; 

Here is the corn and lea ; 
Here are the green trees rustling. 

Hie away home to sea! 

Fresh is the river water 

And quiet among the rushes ; 
This is no home for the sea-gull 

But for the rooks and thrushes. 

Pity the bird that has wandered! 

Pity the sailor ashore! 
Hurry him home to the ocean, 

Let him come here no more ! 

High on the sea-cliff ledges 

The white gulls are trooping and crying, 
Here among rooks and roses, 

Why is the sea-gull flying? 



04 UNDERWOODS 



VII 

TO A GARDENER 

FRIEND, in my mountain-side demesne, 
My plain-beholding, rosy, green 
And linnet-haunted garden-ground, 
Let still the esculents abound. 
Let first the onion flourish there, 
Rose among roots, the maiden-fair, 
Wine-scented and poetic soul 
Of the capacious salad bowl. 
Let thyme the mountaineer (to dr 
The tinier birds) and wading cress, 
The lover of the shallow brook, 
From all my plots and borders look. 
Nor crisp and ruddy radish, nor 
Pease-cods for the child's pinafore 
Be lacking ; nor of salad clan 
The last and least that ever ran 
About great nature's garden-beds. 
Nor thence be missed the speary heads 
Of artichoke ; nor thence the bean 
That gathered innocent and green 
Outsavours the belauded pea. 

These tend, I prithee ; and for me, 
Thy most long-suffering master, bring 
In April, when the linnets sing 
And the days lengthen more and more. 
At sundown to the garden door. 



UNDERWOODS 105 

And I, being provided thus, 
Shall, with superb asparagus, 
A book, a taper, and a cup 
Of country wine, divinely sup. 

La Solitude, IlYfeREs. 



VIII 

TO MINNIE 

(JVith a hand-(^lass) 

A PICTURE-FRAME for a^ou to fill, 
A paltry setting for your face, 
A thing that has no worth until 

You lend it something of your grace, 

I send (unhappy I that sing 
Laid by awhile upon the shelf) 

Because I would not send a thing 

Less charming than you are yourself. 

And happier than I, alas ! 

(Dumb thing, I envy its delight) 
'T will wish you well, the looking-glass. 

And look you in the face to-night. 



io6 UNDERWOODS 

IX 

TO K. DE M. 

A LOVER of the moorland bare, 
And honest country winds, yon were ; 
The silver-skimming rain you took ; 
And loved the floodings of the brook, 
Dew, frost and mountains, fire and seas, 
Tumultuary silences, 
Winds that in darkness fifed a tune, 
And the high-riding virgin moon. 

And as the berry, pale and sharp, 
Springs on some ditch's counterscarp 
In our ungenial, native north — 
You put your frosted wildings forth. 
And on the heath, afar from man, 
A strong and bitter virgin ran. 

The berry ripened keeps the rude 
And racy flavour of the wood. 
And you that loved the empty plain 
All redolent of wind and rain. 
Around you still the curlew sings — 
The freshness of the weather clings — 
The maiden jewels of the rain 
Sit in vour dabbled locks again. 



UNDERWOODS 107 



X 

TO N. V. DE G. S. 

THE unfathomable sea, and time, and tears, 
The deeds of heroes and the crimes of kint:^s 
Dispart us ; and the river of events 
Has, for an age of years, to east and west 
More widely borne our cradles. Thou to me 
Art foreign, as when seamen at the dawn 
Descry a land far off and know not which. 
So I approach uncertain ; so I cruise 
Round thy mysterious islet, and behold 
Surf and great mountains and loud river-bars. 
And from the shore hear inland voices call. 
Strange is the seaman's heart ; he hopes, he fears ; 
Draws closer and sweeps wider from that coast 
Last, his rent sail refits, and to the deep 
His shattered prow uncomforted puts back. 
Yet as he goes he ponders at the helm 
Of that bright island ; where he feared to touch. 
His spirit readventures ; and for years, 
Where by his wife he slumbers safe at home, 
Thoughts of that land revisit him ; he sees 
The eternal mountains beckon, and awakes 
Yearning for that far home that might have been. 



io8 UNDERWOODS 

XI 

TO WILL H. LOW 

YOUTH now flees on feathered foot, 
Faint and fainter sounds the flute, 
Rarer songs of gods ; and still 
Somewhere on the sunny hill. 
Or along the winding stream. 
Through the willows, flits a dream ; 
Flits, but shows a smiling face, 
Flees, but with so quaint a grace, 
None can choose to stay at home, 
All must follow, all must roam. 

This is unborn beauty : she 
Now in air floats high and free, 
Takes the sun and breaks the blue ; — 
Late with stooping pinion flew 
Raking hedgerow trees, and wet 
Her wing in silver streams, and set 
Shining foot on temple roof: 
Now again she flies aloof. 
Coasting mountain clouds and kiss't 
By the evening's amethyst. 

In wet wood and miry lane. 
Still we pant and pound in vain ; 
Still with leaden foot we chase 
Waning pinion, fainting face ; 
Still with grey hair we stumble on, 
Till, behold, the vision gone! 



UNDERWOODS 109 

Where hath fleeting beauty led? 
To the doorway of the dead. 
Life is over, Hfe was gay : 
We have come the primrose way. 



XII 

TO MRS. WILL H. LOW 

EVEN in the bluest noonday of July, 
There could not run the smallest breath of wind 
But all the quarter sounded like a wood ; 
And in the chequered silence and above 
The hum of city cabs that sought the Bois, 
Suburban ashes shivered into song. 
A patter and a chatter and a chirp 
And a long dying hiss — it was as though 
Starched old brocaded dames through all the house 
Had trailed a strident skirt, or the whole sky 
Even in a wink had over-brimmed in rain. 
Hark, in these shady parlours, how it talks 
Of the near autumn, how the smitten ash 
Trembles and augurs floods ! O not too long 
In these inconstant latitudes delay, 
O not too late from the unbeloved north 
Trim your escape ! For soon shall this low roof 
Resound indeed with rain, soon shall your eyes 
Search the foul garden, search the darkened rooms, 
Nor find one jewel but the blazing log. 

12 Rue Vernier, Paris. 



no UNDERWOODS 

XIII 

TO H. F. BROWN 
( Written during a datigerous sickness) 

I SIT and wait a pair of oars 
On cis-Elysian river-shores. 
Where the immortal dead have sate, 
'T is mine to sit and meditate ; 
To re-ascend hfe's rivulet, 
Without remorse, without regret; 
And sing my Alma Gcnctrix 
Among the willows of the Styx. 

And lo, as my serener soul 
Did these unhappy shores patrol. 
And wait with an attentive ear 
The coming of the gondolier, 
Your fire-surviving roll I took, 
Your spirited and happy book ; i 
Whereon, despite my frowning fate, 
It did my soul so recreate 
That all my fancies fled away 
On a Venetian holiday. 

Now, thanks to your triumphant care, 
Your pages clear as April air. 
The sails, the bells, the birds, I know. 
And the far-ofif Friulan snow ; 
The land and sea, the sun and shade, 
And the blue even lamp-inlaid. 

1 Life on the Lagoons, by H. F. Brown, originally burncil in the 
fire at Messrs. Kegan Paul, Trench & Co.'s. 



UNDERWOODS iii 

For this, for these, for all, O friend, 
For your whole book from end to end — 
For Paf on Piero's muttonham — 
I your defaulting- debtor am. 

Perchance, reviving, yet may I 
To your sea-paven city hie, 
And in a felzc, some day yet 
Light at your pipe my cigarette. 



XIV 

TO ANDREW LANG 

DEAR Andrew, with the brindled hair. 
Who glory to have thrown in air, 
High over arm, the trembling reed. 
By Ale and Kail, by Till and Tweed : 
An equal craft of hand you show 
The pen to guide, the fly to throw : 
I count you happy starred ; for God, 
When He with inkpot and with rod 
Endowed you, bade your fortune lead 
Forever by the crooks of Tweed, 
Forever by the woods of song 
And lands that to the IMuse belong ; 
Or if in peopled streets, or in 
The abhorred pedantic sanhedrim. 
It should be yours to wander, still 
Airs of the morn, airs of the hill. 
The plover}' Forest and the seas 
That break about the Hebrides, 
Should follow over field and plain 
And find you at the window pane ; 



112 UNDERWOODS 

And you again see hill and peel, 

And the bright springs gush at your heel. 

So went the fiat forth, and so 

Garrulous like a brook you go, 

With sound of happy mirth and sheen 

Of daylight — whether by the green 

You fare that moment, or the grey ; 

Whether you dwell in March or May ; 

Or whether treat of reels and rods 

Or of the old unhappy gods : 

Still like a brook your page has shone, 

And your ink sings of Helicon. 



XV 

ET TU IN ARCADIA VIXISTI 
(To R. A. M. S.) 

IN ancient tales, O friend, thy spirit dwelt ; 
There, from of old, thy childhood passed ; and 
there 
High expectation, high delights and deeds. 
Thy fluttering heart with hope and terror moved. 
And thou hast heard of yore the Blatant Beast, 
And Roland's horn, and that war-scattering shout 
Of all-unarmed Achilles, ?egis-crowned. 
And perilous lands thou sawest, sounding shores 
And seas and forests drear, island and dale 
And mountain dark. For thou with Tristram rod'st 
Or Bedevere, in farthest Lyonesse. 
Thou hadst a booth in Samarcand, whereat 
Side-looking Magians trafficked ; thence, by night, 
An Afreet snatched thee, and with wings upbore 



UNDERWOODS 113 

Beyond the Aral mount ; or, hoping gain, 

Thou, with a jar of money, didst embark, 

For Balsorah, by sea. But chiefly thou 

In that clear air took'st life ; in Arcady 

The haunted, land of song ; and by the wells 

Where most the gods frequent. There Chiron old. 

In the Pelethronian autre, taught thee lore ; 

The plants, he taught, and by the shining stars 

In forests dim to steer. There hast thou seen 

Immortal Pan dance secret in a glade, 

And, dancing, roll his eyes ; these, where they fell, 

Shed glee, and through the congregated oaks 

A flying horror winged ; while all the earth 

To the god's pregnant footing thrilled within. 

Or whiles, beside the sobbing stream, he breathed. 

In his clutched pipe, unformed and wizard strains^ 

Divine yet brutal ; which the forest heard. 

And thou, with awe ; and far upon the plain 

The unthinking ploughman started and gave ear. 

Now things there are that, upon him who sees, 
A strong vocation lay ; and strains there are 
That whoso hears shall hear for evermore. 
For evermore thou hear'st immortal Pan 
And those melodious godheads, ever young 
And ever quiring, on the mountains old. 

What was this earth, child of the gods, to thee? 
Forth from thy dreamland thou, a dreamer, cam'st. 
And in thine ears the olden music rang. 
And in thy mind the doings of the dead. 
And those heroic ages long forgot. 
To a so fallen earth, alas ! too late, 
Alas ! in evil days, thy steps return. 
To list at noon for nightingales, to grow 



114 UNDERWOODS 

A dweller on the beach till Argo come 

That came long since, a lingerer by the pool 

Where that desired angel bathes no more. 

As when the Indian to Dakota comes, 

Or farthest Idaho, and where he dwelt, 

He with his clan, a humming city finds ; 

Thereon awhile, amazed, he stares, and then 

To right and leftward, like a questing dog. 

Seeks first the ancestral altars, then the hearth 

Long cold with rains, and where old terror lodged, 

And where the dead. So thee undying Hope, 

With all her pack, hunts screaming through the 

years : 
Here, there, thou fleeest ; but nor here nor there 
The pleasant gods abide, the glory dwells. 

That, that was not Apollo, not the god. 

This was not Venus, though she Venus seemed 

A moment. And though fair yon river move, 

She, all the way, from disenchanted fount 

To seas unhallowed runs ; the gods forsook 

Long since her trembling rushes ; from her plains 

Disconsolate, long since adventure fled ; 

And now although the inviting river flows. 

And every poplared cape, and every bend 

Or willowy islet, win upon thy soul 

And to thy hopeful shallop whisper speed ; 

Yet hope not thou at all ; hope is no more ; 

And O, long since the golden groves are dead, 

The faery cities vanished from the land ! 



UNDERWOODS 115 



XVI 

TO W. E. HENLEY 

THE year runs through her phases ; rain and sun. 
Springtime and summer pass ; winter succeeds ; 
But one pale season rules the house of death. 
Cold falls the imprisoned daylight ; fell disease 
By each lean pallet squats, and pain and sleep 
Toss gaping on the pillows. 

But O thou! 
Uprise and take thy pipe. Bid music flow, 
Strains by good thoughts attended, like the spring 
The swallows follow over land and sea. 
Pain sleeps at once ; at once, with open eyes, 
Dozing despair awakes. The shepherd sees 
His flock come bleating home ; the seaman hears 
Once more the cordage rattle. Airs of home ! 
Youth, love and roses blossom ; the gaunt ward 
Dislimns and disappears, and, opening out, 
Shows brooks and forests, and the blue beyond 
Of mountains. 

Small the pipe ; but O ! do thou, 
Peak-faced and suffering piper, blow therein 
The dirge of heroes dead ; and to these sick, 
These dying, sound the triumph over death. 
Behold ! each greatly breathes ; each tastes a joy 
Unknown before, in dving- ; for each knows 



5-> 



A hero dies with him — thousrh unfulfilled 



Yet conquering truly — and not dies in vain. 



ii6 UNDERWOODS 

So is pain cheered, death comforted ; the house 
Of sorrow smiles to hsten. Once again — 
O thou, Orpheus and Heracles, the bard 
And the deliverer touch the stops again ! 



XVII 

HENRY JAMES 

WHO comes to-night ? We ope the doors in vain. 
Who comes? My bursting walls, can you 
contain 
The presences that now together throng 
Your narrow entry, as with flowers and song, 
As with the air of life, the breath of talk? 
Lo, how these fair immaculate women walk 
Behind their jocund maker; and we see 
Slighted Dc Mauves, and that far different she, 
Gressie, the trivial sphynx ; and to our feast 
Daisy and Barb and Chancellor (she not least!) 
With all their silken, all their airy kin, 
Do like unbidden angels enter in. 
But he, attended by these shining names. 
Comes (best of all) himself — our welcome James. 



UNDERWOODS 117 



XVIII 

THE MIRROR SPEAKS 

WHERE the bells peal far at sea 
Cunning fingers fashioned me. 
There on palace walls I hung 
While that Consuelo sung; 
But I heard, though I listened well, 
Never a note, never a trill. 
Never a beat of the chiming bell. 
There I hung and looked, and there 
In my grey face, faces fair 
Shone from under shining hair. 
Well I saw the poising head, 
But the lips moved and nothing said; 
And when lights were in the hall, 
Silent moved the dancers all. 

So awhile I glowed, and then 
Fell on dusty days and men; 
Long I slumbered packed in straw, 
Long I none but dealers saw ; 
Till before my silent eye 
One that sees came passing by. 
Now with an outlandish grace, 
To the sparkling fire I face 
In the blue room at Skerryvore ; 
Where I wait until the door 
Open, and the Prince of Men, 
Henry James, shall come again. 



UNDERWOODS 
XIX 

KATHARINE 

WE see you as we see a face 
That trembles in a forest place 
Upon the mirror of a pool 
Forever quiet, clear and cool ; 
And in the wayward glass, appears 
To hover between smiles and tears, 
Elfin and human, airy and true. 
And backed by the reflected blue. 

XX 

TO F. J. S. 

I READ, dear friend, in your dear face 
Your life's tale told with perfect grace; 
The river of your life, I trace 
Up the sim-chequered, devious bed 
To the far-distant fountain-head. 

Not one quick beat of your warm heart, 
Nor thought that came to you apart, 
Pleasure nor pity, love nor pain 
Nor sorrow, has gone by in vain ; 

But as some lone, wood-wandering child 
Brings home with him at evening mild 
The thorns and flowers of all the wild, 
From your whole life, O fair and true 
Your flowers and thorns you bring with you ! 



UNDERWOODS 119 



XXI 

REQUIEM 

UNDER the wide and starn- sky, 
Dig the grave and let me he. 
Glad did I live and gladly die. 
And I laid me down with a will. 

This be the verse you grave for me : 
Here he lies where he longed to be; 
Home is the sailor, home from sea. 
And the hunter home from the hill. 



XXII 

THE CELESTIAL SURGEON 

IF I have faltered more or less 
In my great task of happiness ; 
If I have moved among my race 
And shown no glorious morning face ; 
If beams from happy human eyes 
Have moved me not ; if morning skies, 
Books, and my food, and summer rain 
Knocked on my sullen heart in vain : — 
Lord, thy most pointed pleasure take 
And stab my spirit broad awake ; 
Or, Lord, if too obdurate I, 
Choose thou, before that spirit die, 
A piercing pain, a killing sin. 
And to my dead heart run them in ! 



I20 UNDERWOODS 

XXIII 

OUR LADY OF THE SNOWS 

OUT of the sun, out of the blast. 
Out of the world, alone I passed 
Across the moor and through the wood 
To where the monastery stood. 
There neither lute nor breathing fife. 
Nor rumour of the world of life. 
Nor confidences low and dear. 
Shall strike the meditative ear. 
Aloof, unhelpful, and unkind. 
The prisoners of the iron mind. 
Where nothing speaks except the hell 
The unfraternal brothers dwell. 
Poor passionate men, still clothed afresh 
With agonising folds of flesh ; 
Whom the clear eyes solicit still 
To some bold output of the will. 
While fairy Fancy far before 
And musing Memory-Hold-the-door 
Now to heroic death invite 
And now uncurtain fresh delight : 
O, little boots it thus to dwell 
On the remote unneighboured hill ! 
O to be up and doing, O 
Unfearing and unshamed to go 
In all the uproar and the press 
About my human business ! 
My undissuaded heart I hear 
Whisper courage in my ear. 



U N DERW O O DS 121 

With voiceless calls, the ancient earth 
Summons me to a daily birth. 
Thou, O my love, ye, O my friends — 
The gist of life, the end of ends — 
To laugh, to love, to live, to die, 
Ye call me by the ear and eye ! 

Forth from the casemate, on the plain 
Where honour has the world to gain, 
Pour forth and bravely do your part, 
O knights of the unshielded heart ! 
Forth and forever forward ! — out 
From prudent turret and redoubt, 
And in the rnellay charge amain, 
To fall but yet to rise again ! 
Captive ? ah, still, to honour bright, 
A captive soldier of the right ! 
Or free and fighting, good with ill ? 
Unconquering but unconquered still! 

And ye, O brethren, what if God, 

When from Heav'n's top he spies abroad, 

And sees on this tormented stage 

The noble war of mankind rage : 

What if his vivifying eye, 

O monks, should pass your corner by? 

For still the Lord is Lord of might ; 

In deeds, in deeds, he takes delight ; 

The plough, the spear, the laden barks, 

The field, the founded city, marks; 

He marks the smiler of the streets. 

The singer upon garden seats ; M 

He sees the climber in the rocks ; 

To him, the shepherd folds his flocks. 



122 UNDERWOODS 

For those he loves that underprop 
With daily virtues Heaven's top, 
And bear the falling sky with ease, 
Unfrowning caryatides. 
Those he approves that ply the trade, 
That rock the child, that wed the maid. 
That with weak virtues, weaker hands. 
Sow gladness on the peopled lands, 
And still with laughter, song, and shout. 
Spin the great wheel of earth about. 

But ye ? — O ye who linger still 
Here in your fortress on the hill, 
With placid face, with tranquil breath. 
The unsought volunteers of death. 
Our cheerful General on high 
With careless looks may pass you by. 



XXIV 

NOT yet, my soul, these friendly fields desert, 
Where thou with grass, and rivers, and the 
breeze 
And the bright face of day, thy dalliance hadst ; 
Where to thine ear first sang the enraptured birds ; 
Where love and thou that lasting bargain made. 
The ship rides trimmed, and from the eternal shore 
Thou hearest airy voices ; but not yet 
Depart, my soul, not yet awhile depart. 

Freedom is far, rest far. Thou art with life 
Too closely woven, nerve with nerve intwined; 
Service still craving service, love for love, 
Love for dear love, still suppliant with tears. 



UNDERWOODS 123 

Alas, not yet thy human task is done ! 

A bond at birth is forged ; a debt doth He 

Immortal on mortality. It grows — 

By vast rebound it grows, unceasing growth ; 

Gift upon gift, alms upon alms, upreared, 

From man, from God, from nature, till the soul 

At that so huge indulgence stands amazed. 

Leave not, my soul, the unfoughten field, nor leave 

Thy debts dishonoured, nor thy place desert 

Without due service rendered. For thy life, 

Up, spirit, and defend that fort of clay. 

Thy body, now beleaguered ; whether soon 

Or late she fall ; whether to-day thy friends 

Bew^ail thee dead, or, after years, a man 

Grown. old in honour and the friend of peace. 

Contend, my soul, for moments and for hours ; 

Each is with service pregnant ; each reclaimed 

Is as a kingdom conquered, w^here to reign. 

As when a captain rallies to the fight 

His scattered legions, and beats ruin back, 

He, on the field, encamps, well pleased in mind. 

Yet surely him shall fortune overtake, 

Him smite in turn, headlong his ensigns drive ; 

And that dear land, now safe, to-morrow fall. 

But he, unthinking, in the present good 

Solely delights, and all the camps rejoice. 



124 UNDERWOODS 



XXV 

IT is not yours, O mother, to complain, 
Not, mother, yours to weep, 
Though nevermore your son again 
Shall to your bosom creep. 

Though nevermore again you watch your baby 
sleep. 

Though in the greener paths of earth. 

Mother and child, no more 
We wander ; and no more the birth 

Of me whom once you bore, 

Seems still the brave reward that once it seemed of 
yore; 

Though as all passes, day and night, 

The seasons and the years. 
From you, O mother, this delight. 

This also disappears — 

Some profit yet survives of all your pangs and tears. 

The child, the seed, the grain of corn, 

The acorn on the hill, 
Each for some separate end is born 

In season fit, and still 

Each must in strength arise to work the almighty 
will. 

So from the hearth the children flee, 

By that almighty hand 
Austerely led ; so one by sea 

Goes forth, and one by land ; 

Nor aught of all man's sons escapes from that 
command. 



UNDERWOODS 125 

So from the sally each obeys 

The unseen almighty nod ; 
So till the ending all their ways 

Blindfolded loth have trod : 

Nor knew their task at all, but were the tools of 
God. 

And as the fervent smith of yore 

Beat out the glowing- blade, 
Nor wielded in the front of war 

The weapons that he made, 

But in the tower at home still plied his ringing 
trade ; 

So like a sword the son shall roam 

On nobler missions sent ; 
And as the smith remained at home 

In peaceful turret pent, 

So sits the while at home the mother well content. 



126 



UN DER WOODS 



XXVI 



THE SICK CHILD 



Child. 



O MOTHER, lay your hand on my brow ! 
O mother, mother, where am I now ? 
Why is the room so gaunt and great? 
Why am I lying awake so late? 



Mother. Fear not at all : the night is still. 

Nothing is here that means you ill — 
Nothing but lamps the whole town through, 
And never a child awake but you. 

Child. Mother, mother, speak low in my ear, 

Some of the things are so great and near, 

Some are so small and far away, 

I have a fear that I cannot say. 

What have I done, and what do I fear, 

And why are you crying, mother dear? 

Mother. Out in the city, sounds begin ; 

Thank the kind God, the carts come in ! 
An hour or two more and God is so kind. 
The day shall be blue in the windo\y-blind. 
Then shall my child go sweetly asleep. 
And dream of the birds and the hills of sheep. 



UNDERWOODS 127 



XXVII 

IN MEMORIAM F. A. S. 

YET, O Stricken heart, remember, O remember 
How of human days he lived the better part. 
April came to bloom and never dim December 
Breathed its killing chills upon the head or heart. 

Doomed to know not Winter, only Spring, a being 
Trod the flowery April blithely for awhile, 

Took his fill of music, joy of thought and seeing, 
Came and stayed and went, nor ever ceased to smile. 

Came and stayed and went, and now when all is 
finished. 

You alone have crossed the melancholy stream, 
Yours the pang, but his, O his, the undiminished 

Undecaying gladness, undeparted dream. 

All that life contains of torture, toil and treason. 
Shame, dishonour, death, to him were but a name. 

Here, a boy, he dwelt through all the singing season 
And ere the day of sorrow departed as he came. 

Davos, i88i. 



128 UNDERWOODS 

XXVIII 

TO MY FATHER 

PEACE and her huge invasion to these shores 
Puts daily home; innumerable sails 
Dawn on the far horizon and draw near ; 
Innumerable loves, uncounted hopes 
To our wild coasts, not darkling now, approach : 
Not now obscure, since thou and thine are there. 
And bright on the lone isle, the foundered reef, 
The long, resounding foreland. Pharos stands. 

These are thy works, O father, these thy crown ; 
Whether on high the air be pure, they shine 
Along the yellowing sunset, and all night 
Among the unnumbered stars of God they shine ; 
Or whether fogs arise and far and wide 
The low sea-level drown — each finds a tongue 
And all night long the tolling bell resounds : 
So shine, so toll, till night be overpast. 
Till the stars vanish, till the sun return. 
And in the haven rides the fleet secure. 

In the first hour, the seaman in his skiff 

Moves through the unmoving bay, to where the town 

Its earliest smoke into the air upbreathes 

And the rough hazels climb along the beach. 

To the tugg'd oar the distant echo speaks. 

The ship lies resting, where by reef and roost 

Thou and thy lights have led her like a child. 

This hast thou done, and I — can I be base ? 

I must arise, O father, and to port 

Some lost, complaining seaman pilot home. 



UNDERWOODS 129 



XXIX 

IN THE STATES 

WITH half a heart I wander here 
As from an age gone by 
A brother — yet though young in years, 
An elder brother, I. 

You speak another tongue than mine, 
Though both were English born. 

I towards the night of time decline 
You mount into the morn. 

Youth shall grow great and strong and free, 

But age must still decay : 
To-morrow for the States — for me, 

England and Yesterday. 

San Francisco. 



UNDERWOODS 
XXX 

A PORTRAIT 

I AM a kind of farthing dip, 
Unfriendly to the nose and eyes; 
A bkie-behinded ape, I skip 
Upon the trees of Paradise. 

At mankind's feast, I take my place 
In solemn, sanctimonious state. 

And have the air of saying grace 
While I defile the dinner plate. 

I am *' the smiler with the knife," 
The battener upon garbage, I — 

Dear Heaven, with such a rancid life, 
Were it not better far to die? 

Yet still, about the human pale, 
I love to scamper, love to race, 

To swing by my irreverent tail 
All over the most holy place; 

And when at length, some golden day, 
The unfailing sportsman, aiming at. 

Shall bag, me — all the world shall say: 
Thank God, and there's an end of that! 



UNDERWOODS 131 



XXXI 

SING clearlier, Muse, or evermore be still, 
Sing truer or no longer sing! 
No more the voice of melancholy Jacques 
To wake a weeping echo in the hill ; 
But as the boy, the pirate of the spring. 
From the green elm a living linnet takes, 
One natural verse recapture — then be still. 



XXXII 

A CAMP ^ 

THE bed was made, the room was fit, 
By punctual eve the stars were lit ; 
The air was still, the water ran, 
No need was there for maid or man. 
When we put up, my ass and I, 
At God's green caravanserai. 

1 From Travels with a Donkey. 



32 UNDERWOODS 



w 



XXXIII 

THE COUNTRY OF THE CAMISARDS ^ 

E travelled in the print of olden wars, 
Yet all the land was green, 
And love we found, and peace, 
Where fire and war had been. 



They pass and smile, the children of the sword 
No more the sword they wield ; 
And O, how deep the corn 



Along the battlefield ! 



XXXIV 

SKERRYVORE 

FOR love of lovely words, and for the sake 
Of those, my kinsmen and my countrymen, 
Who early and late in the windy ocean toiled 
To plant a star for seamen, where was then 
The surfy haunt of seals and cormorants: 
I, on the lintel of this cot, inscribe 
The name of a strong tower. 

1 From Travels with a Donkey. 



UNDERWOODS 133 

XXXV 

skerryvore: the parallel 

HERE all is sunny, and when the truant gull 
Skims the green level of the lawn, his wing 
Dispetals roses ; here the house is framed 
Of kneaded brick and the plumed mountain pine, 
Such clay as artists fashion and such wood 
As the tree-climbing urchin breaks. But there 
Eternal granite hewn from the living isle 
And dowelled with brute iron, rears a tower 
That from its wet foundation to its crown 
Of glittering glass, stands, in the sweep of winds, 
Immovable, immortal, eminent. 



XXXVI 

l\/fy house, I say. But hark to the sunny doves 
J. yj. That make my roof the arena of their loves. 
That gyre about the gable all day long 
And fill the chimneys with their murmurous song: 
Our house, they say ; and mine, the cat declares 
And spreads his golden fleece upon the chairs ; 
And mine the dog, and rises stifif with wrath 
If any alien foot profane the path. 
So, too, the buck that trimmed my terraces, 
Our whilom gardener, called the garden his ; 
Who now, deposed, surveys my plain abode 
And his late kingdom, only from the road. 



34 UNDERWOODS 



XXXVII 

MY body which my dungeon is, 
And yet my parks and palaces : — 

Which is so great that there I go 
All the day long to and fro, 
And when the night begins to fall 
Throw down my bed and sleep, while all 
The building hums with wakefulness — 
Even as a child of savages 
When evening takes her on her way, 
(She having roamed a summer's day 
Along the mountain-sides and scalp) 
Sleeps in an antre of that alp : — 

Which is so broad and high that there, 
As in the topless fields of air, 
My fancy soars like to a kite 
And faints in the blue infinite : — 

Which is so strong, my strongest throes 
And the rough world's besieging blows 
Not break it, and so weak withal, 
Death ebbs and flows in its loose wall 
As the green sea in fishers' nets, 
And tops its topmost parapets : — 

Which is so wholly mine that I 
Can wield its whole artillery, 
And mine so little, that my soul 
Dwells in perpetual control. 
And I but think and speak and do 
As my dead fathers move me to : — 

If this born body of my bones 
The beggared soul so barely owns, 



UN DERWOO DS 

What money passed from hand to hand, 
What creeping custom of the land, 
What deed of author or assign, 
Can make a house a thing of mine ? 



XXXVIII 

SAY not of me that weakly I declined 
The labours of my sires, and fled the sea, 
The towers we founded and the lamps we lit, 
To play at home with paper like a child. 
But rather say: In the afternoon of time 
A strenuous family dusted from its hands 
The sand of granite, and beholding far 
Along the sounding coast its pyramids 
And tall memorials catch the dying sun, 
Smiled zvell content, and to this childish task 
Around the tire addressed its evening hours. 



^35 



BOOK II 

IN SCOTS 



TABLE OF COMMON SCOTTISH VOWEL SOUNDS 

ae ) . . 

. > = open A as in rare. 

au ? = AW as in law. 
aw ) 

ea = open E as in mere, but this with exceptions, as heather 
heather, wean = wain, lear = lair. 



ee ^ 

le ) 



open E as in mere. 



oa = open O as in more. 

ou = doubled O as in poor. 

ow = OW as in bower. 

u = doubled O as in poor. 

ui or ii before R = (say roughly) open A as in rare. 

ui or ii before any other consonant = (say roughly) close I as in grin. 

y = open I as in kite. 

i = pretty nearly what you please, much as in English. Heaven 
guide the reader through that labyrinth ! But in Scots it 
dodges usually from the short I, as in grin, to the open E, as 
in mere. Find and blind, I may remark, are pronounced to 
rhyme with the preterite of grin. 



THE MAKER TO POSTERITY 

FAR 'yont amang the years to be 
When a' we think, an' a' we see, 
An' a' we luve, 's been dung ajee 
By time's rouch shouther, 
An' what was richt and wrang for me 
Lies mangled throu'ther, 

It 's possible — it 's hardly mair — 
That some ane, ripin' after lear — 
Some atild professor or young heir, 

If still there 's either — 
May find an' read me, an' be sair 

Perplexed, puir brither! 

What tongue does your auld bookie speak? 
He '11 spier ; an' I, his mou to steik : 
No hein' Ht to zvrite in Greek, 

I ivrote in Lallan, 
Dear to my heart as the peat reek, 

Auld as Tantallon. 

" Feiv spak it then, an' noo there 's nane. 

My piiir auld sangs lie a' their lane. 

Their sense, that aince ivas braiv an' plain, 

Tint a'fhegether. 
Like runes upon a standin' stane 

Amang the heather. 



40 UNDERWOODS 

"" But think not you the brae to sped; 
You, tae, maun chozv the hitter peel; 
For a' your lear, for a' your skeel, 

Ye 're nane sae lucky; 
An' things are mebbe zvaur than weel 
For you, my buckie. 

'' The hale concern (baith hens an' eggs, 
Baith books an' writers, stars an' clegs) 
Noo stachers upon lozusent legs. 

An' zvears awa ; 
The tack o' mankind, near the dregs, 

Rins unco law. 

'' Your book, that in some brazu nezv tongue. 
Ye zurote or prentit, preached or sung, 
Will still be just a bairn, an' young 

In fame an years. 
Whan the hale planet's guts are dung 

About your ears; 

''An you, sair gruppin' to a spar 
Or zvhammled zvi' some bleezin star, 
Cryin' to ken zvhaur deil ye are, 

Hame, France, or Flanders — 
Whang sindry like a railzvay car 

An' Hie in danders.'* 



UNDERWOODS 141 



II 

ILLE TERRARUM 

FRAE nirly, nippin', Eas'lan' breeze, 
Frae Norlan' snaw, an' haar o' seas, 
Weel happit in your gairden trees, 

A bonny bit, 
Atween the muckle Pentland's knees, 
Secure ye sit. 

Beeches an' aiks entwine their theek, 
An' firs, a stench, auld-farrant chque. 
A' simmer day, your chimleys reek, 

Couthy and bien ; 
An' here an' there your windies keek 

Amang the green. 

A pickle plats an' paths an' posies, 
A wheen auld gillyflowers an' roses : 
A ring o' wa's the hale encloses 

Frae sheep or men ; 
An' there the auld housie beeks an' doses, 

A' by her lane. 

The gairdner crooks his weary back 

A' day in the pitaty-track, 

Or mebbe stops awhile to crack 

Wi Jane the cook, 

Or at some buss, worm-eaten-black. 

To gie a look. 



142 UNDERWOODS 

Frae the high hills the curlew ca's ; 
The sheep gang baaing by the wa's ; 
Or whiles a clan o' roosty craws 

Cangle thegether ; 
The wild bees seek the gairden raws, 

Weariet wi' heather. 

Or in the gloamin' douce an' gray 
The sweet-throat mavis tunes her lay ; 
The herd comes Hnkin' doun the brae; 

An' by degrees 
The muckle siller miine maks way 

Amang the trees. 

Here aft hae I, wi' sober heart, 
For meditation sat apairt, 
When orra loves or kittle art 

Perplexed my mind ; 
Here socht a balm for ilka smart 

O' humankind. 



Here aft, weel neukit by my lane, 
Wi' Horace, or perhaps Montaigne, 
The mornin' hours hae come an' gane 

Abiine my heid — 
I wadnae gi'en a chucky-stane 

For a' I 'd read. 

But noo the auld city, street by street, 
An' winter fu' o' snaw an' sleet, 
Awhile shut in my gangrel feet 

An' goavin' mettle ; 
Noo is the soopit ingle sweet. 

An' liltin' kettle. 



UNDERWOODS 143 

An' noo the winter winds complain ; 
Cauld lies the glaur in ilka lane ; 
On draigled hizzie, taiitit wean 

An' drucken lads, 
In the mirk nicht, the winter rain 

Dribbles an' blads. 

Whan bugles frae the Castle rock, 
An' beaten drums wi' dowie shock, 
Wauken, at cauld-rife sax o'clock, 

My chitterin' frame, 
I mind me on the kintry cock, 

The kintry hame. 

I mind me on yon bonny bield ; 
An' Fancy traivels far afield 
To gaither a' that gairdens yield 

O' sun an Simmer : 
To hearten up a dowie chield, 

Fancy 's the Hmmer ! 



144 UNDERWOODS 



III 



WHEN aince Aprile has fairly come, 
An' birds may bigg in winter's lum, 
An' pleisure's spreid for a' and some 

C whatna state, 
Love, wi' her auld recruitin' drum, 
Than taks the gate. 

The heart plays dunt wi' main an' micht ; 
The lasses' een are a' sae bricht, 
Their dresses are sae braw an' ticht. 

The bonny birdies ! — 
Puir winter virtue at the sicht 

Gangs heels ower hurdies. 

An' aye as love frae land to land 
Tirls the drum wi' eident hand, 
A' men collect at her command, 

Toun-bred or land'art. 
An' follow in a denty band 

Her gaucy standart. 

An' I, wha sang o' rain an' snaw, 
An' weary winter weel awa', 
Noo busk me in a jacket braw, 

An' tak my place 
r the ram-stam, harum-scarum raw, 

Wi' smilin' face. 



UNDERWOODS 

IV 

A MILE an' a BITTOCK 

A MILE an' a bittock, a mile or twa, 
Abiine the burn, ayont the law, 
Davie an' Donal' an' Cherlie an' a', 
An' the miine was shinin' clearly! 

Ane went hame wi' the ither, an' then 
The ither went hame wi' the ither twa men, 
An' baith wad return him the service again, 
An' the miine was shinin' clearly ! 

The clocks were chappin' in house an' ha', 
Eleeven, twal an' ane an' twa ; 
An' the guidman's face was turnt to the wa', 
An' the miine was shinin' clearly ! 

A wind got up frae affa the sea, 
It blew the stars as clear 's could be. 
It blew in the een of a' o' the three. 

An' the miine was shinin' clearly ! 

Noo, Davie was first to get sleep in his head. 
'' The best o' frien's maun twine," he said; 
" I 'm weariet, an' here I 'm awa' to my bed." 
An' the miine was shinin' clearly! 

Twa o' them walkin' an' crackin' their lane, 
The mornin' licht cam gray an' plain. 
An' the birds they yammert on stick an' stane. 
An' the miine was shinin' clearly ! 

O years ayont, O years awa'. 
My lads, ye '11 mind whate'er befa' — 
My lads, ye '11 mind on the bield o' the law, 
When the miine was shinin' clearly! 



H5 



146 UNDERWOODS 



A LOWDEN SABBATH MORN 

THE clinkum-clank o' Sabbath bells 
Noo to the hoastin' rookery swells, 
Noo faintin' laigh in shady dells, 

Sounds far an' near, 
An' through the simmer kintry tells 
Its tale o' cheer. 

An' noo, to that melodious play, 
A' deidly awn the quiet sway — 
A' ken their solemn holiday, 

Bestial an' human. 
The singin' lintie on the brae, 

The restin' plou'man. 

He, mair than a' the lave o' men, 
His week completit joys to ken ; 
Half-dressed, he daunders out an' in, 

Perplext wi' leisure; 
An' his raxt limbs he '11 rax again 

Wi' painfii' pleesure. 

The steerin' mither Strang afit 
Noo shoos the bairnies but a bit ; 
Noo cries them ben, their Sinday shiiit 

To scart upon them, 
Or sweeties in their pouch to pit, 

Wi' blessin's on them. 



UNDERWOODS 147 

The lasses, clean frae tap to taes, 
Are busked in crunklin' underclaes ; 
The gartened hose, the weel-filled stays, 

The nakit shift, 
A' bleached on bonny greens for days, 

An' white 's the drift. 



An' noo to face the kirkward mile : 
The guidman's hat o' dacent style. 
The blackit shoon, we noo maun fyle 

As white 's the miller : 
A waefii' peety tae, to spile 

The warth o' siller. 

Our Marg'et, aye sae keen to crack 
Douce-stappin' in the stoury track 
Her emeralt goun a' kiltit back 

Frae snawy coats, 
White-ankled, leads the kirkward pack 

Wi' Dauvit Groats. 

A' thocht ahint, in runkled breeks, 

A' spiled wi' lyin' by for weeks. 

The guidman follows closs, an' cleiks 

The sonsie missis ; 
His sarious face at aince bespeaks 

The day that this is. 

And aye an' while we nearer draw 
To whaur the kirkton lies alaw, 
Mair neebours, comin' saft an' slaw 

Frae here an' there, 
The thicker thrang the gate an' caw 

The stour in air. 



148 UNDERWOODS 

But hark ; the bells f rae nearer clang ; 
To rowst the slaw, their sides they bang 
An' see ! black coats a'ready thrang 

The green kirkyaird ; 
And at the yett, the chestnuts spang 

That brocht the laird. 

The solemn elders at the plate 

Stand drinkin' deep the pride o' state : 

The practised hands as gash an' great 

As Lords o' Session ; 
The later named, a wee thing blate 

In their expression. 

The prentit stanes that mark the deid, 
Wi' lengthened lip, the sarious read ; 
Syne wag a moraleesin' heid, 

An' then an' there 
Their hirplin' practice an' their creed 

Try hard to square. 

It 's here our ]\Ierren lang has lain, 

A wee bewast the table-stane ; 

An' yon 's the grave o' Sandy Blane ; 

An' further ower. 
The mither's brithers, dacent men! 

Lie a' the fower. 

Here the guidman sail bide awee 
To dwall amang the deid ; to see 
Auld faces clear in fancy's e'e; 

Belike to hear 
Auld voices fa'in saft an' slee 

On fancy's ear. 



UNDERWOODS 149 

Thus, on the day o' solemn things, 
The bell that in the steeple swings 
To fauld a scaittered faim'ly rings 

Its walcome screed ; 
An' just a wee thing nearer brings 

The quick an' deid. 

But noo the bell is ringin' in ; 
To tak their places, folk begin ; 
The minister himsel' will shiine 

Be up the gate, 
Filled fu' wi' clavers about sin 

An' man's estate. 

The tiines are up — French, to be shiire. 
The faithfii' French, an' twa-three mair; 
The auld prezentor, hoastin' sair, 

Wales out the portions, 
An' yirks the tiine into the air 

Wi' queer contortions. 

Follows the prayer, the readin' next, 

An' than the fisslin' for the text 

The twa-three last to find it, vext 

But kind o' proud ; 
An' than the pepperments are raxed. 

An' southernwood. 

For noo 's the time whan pows are seen 
Nid-noddin' like a mandareen; 
When tenty mithers stap a preen 

In sleepin' weans : 
An' nearly half the parochine 

Forget their pains. 



I50 UNDERWOODS 

There 's just a waukrif twa or three: 
Thrawn commentautors sweer to 'gree, 
Weans glowrin' at the bumHn' bee 

On windie-glasses, 
Or lads that tak a keek a-glee 

At sonsie lasses. 

Himsel', meanwhile, frae whaur he cocks 
An' bobs belaw the soundin'-box, 
The treesures of his words unlocks 

Wi' prodigality, 
An' deals some unco dingin' knocks 

To infidality. 

Wi' sappy unction, hoo he burkes 
The hopes o' men that trust in works, 
Expounds the fau'ts o' ither kirks, 

An' shaws the best o' them 
No muckle better than mere Turks, 

When a 's confessed o' them. 

Bethankit ! what a bonny creed ! 

What mair would ony Christian need ? — 

The braw words rumm'le ower his heid, 

Nor steer the sleeper ; 
And in their restin' graves, the deid 

Sleep aye the deeper. 

Note. — It may be guessed by some that I had a certain parish 
in my eye, and this makes it proper I should add a word of discla- 
mation. In my time there have been two ministers in that parish. 
Of the first I have a special reason to speak well, even had there 
been any to think ill. The second I have often met in private and 
long (in the due phrase) "sat under" in his church, and neither 
here nor there have I heard an unkind or ugly word upon his lips. 
The preacher of the text had thus no original in that particular 
parish ; but when I was a boy, he might have been observed in 
many others; he was then (like the schoolmaster) abroad ; and by 
recent advices, it would seem he has not yet entirely disappeared. 



UNDERWOODS 151 

VI 

THE SPAEWIFE 

01 wad like to ken — to the beggar-wife says I — 
> Wliy chops are guid to brander and nane sae 
guid to fry. 
An' siller, that 's sae braw to keep, is brawer still to 

gi'e. 
— It's gey an' easy spierin', says the beggar-wife to 
me. 

O, I wad like to ken — to the beggar-wife says I — 
Hoo a' things come to be whaur we find them when 

we try. 
The lasses in their claes an' the fishes in the sea. 

— // 's gey an' easy spierin', says the beggar-wife to 

me. 

O, I wad like to ken — to tlie beggar-wife says I — 

Why lads are a' to sell an' lasses a' to buy ; 

An' naebody for dacency but barely twa or three. 

— It's gey an' easy spierin, says the beggar-wife to 

me. 

O, I wad like to ken — to the beggar-wife says I — 
Gin death 's as shiire to men as killin' is to kye. 
Why God has filled the yearth sae fu' o' tasty things 

to pree. 
■ — It's gey an' easy spierin', says the beggar-wife to 
. me. 



152 UNDERWOODS 

O, I wad like to ken — to the beggar-wife says I — 
The reason o' the cause an' the wherefore o' the why, 
VVi' mony anither riddle brings the tear into my e'e. 
— It 's gey an' easy spierin' , says the beggar-wife to 
me. 



VII 

THE BLAST 1 875 

IT 'S rainin'. Weet 's the gairden sod, 
Weet the lang roads whaur gangrels plod 
A maist unceevil thing o' God 

In mid July — 
If ye '11 just curse the sneckdraw, dod! 
An' sae wuU I ! 

He 's a braw place in Heev'n, ye ken. 
An' lea's us puir, forjaskit men 
Clamjamfried in the but and ben 

He ca's the earth — 
A wee bit inconvenient den 

No muckle worth; 

An' whiles, at orra times, keeks out, 
Sees what puir mankind are about ; 
An' if He can, I 've little doubt. 

Upsets their plans ; 
He hates a' mankind, brainch and root, 

And a' that 's man's. 

An' whiles, whan they tak heart again, 
An' life i' the sun looks braw an' plain. 



UNDERWOODS 

Doun comes a jaw o' droukin' rain 
Upon their honours — 

God sends a spate outower the plain, 
Or mebbe thun'ers. 

Lord safe us, life 's an unco thing! 
Simmer an' Winter, Yule an' Spring, 
The damned, dour-heartit seasons bring 

A feck o' trouble. 
I wadnae try't to be a king — 

No, nor for double. 

But since we 're in it, willy-nilly, 

We maun be watchfii', wise an' skilly, 

An' no mind ony ither billy, 

Lassie nor God. 
But drink — that 's my best counsel till 'e 

Sae tak the nod. 



53 



154 UNDERWOODS 



VIII 

THE COUNTERBLAST 1886 

MY bonny man, the warld, it 's true, 
Was made for neither me nor you;' 
It 's just a place to warstle through, 

As Job confessed o't ; 
And aye the best that we '11 can do 
Is mak the best o't. 

There 's rowth o' wrang, I 'm free to say : 
The simmer brunt, the winter blae, 
The face of earth a' fyed wi' clay 

An' dour wi' chuckles, 
An' life a rough an' land'art play 

For country buckles. 

An' food 's anither name for clart ; 
An' beasts an' brambles bite an' scart ; 
An' what would we be like, my heart 1 

If bared o' claethin'? 
— Aweel, I cannae mend your cart : 

It 's that or naethin'. 

A feck o' folk frae first to last 

Have through this queer experience passed; 

Twa-three, I ken, just damn an' blast 

The hale transaction ; 
But twa-three ithers, east an' wast, 

Fand satisfaction. 



UN DERWOODS 155 

W'haur braid the briery muirs expand, 

A waefii' an' a weary land, 

The bumblebees, a gowden band, 

Are blithely hingin' ; 
An' there the canty wanderer fand 

The laverock singin'. 

Trout in the burn grow great as herr'n ; 
The simple sheep can find their fair'n' ; 
The wind blaws clean about the cairn 

Wi' caller air ; 
The muircock an' the barefit bairn 

Are happy there. 

Sic-like the howes o' life to some : 

Green loans whaur they ne 'er fash their thumb. 

But mark the muckle winds that come, 

Soopin' an' cool, 
Or hear the powrin' burnie drum 

In the shilfa's pool. 

The evil wi' the guid they tak ; 
They ca' a gray thing gray, no black ; 
To a steigh brae, a stubborn back 

Addressin' daily ; 
An' up the rude, unbieldly track 

O' life, gang gaily. 

What you would like 's a palace ha', 
Or Sinday parlour dink an' braw 
Wi' a' things ordered in a raw 

By denty leddies. 
Weel than, ye cannae hae 't : that 's a' 

That to be said is. 



156 UNDERWOODS 

An' since at life ye 've ta'en the grue. 
An' winnae blithely hirsle through, 
Ye 've fund the very thing to do — 

That 's to drink speerit ; 
An' shiine we '11 hear the last o' you — 

An' blithe to hear it ! 

The shoon ye coft, the life ye lead, 
Ithers will heir when aince ye 're deid ; 
They '11 heir your tasteless bite o' breid. 

An' find it sappy ; 
They '11 to your dulefii' house succeed, 

An' there be happy. 

As whan a glum an' fractious wean 
Has sat an' sullened by his lane 
Till, wi' a rowstin' skelp, he 's taen 

An' shoo'd to bed — 
The ither bairns a' fa' to play'n', 

As gleg 's a gled. 



IX 

THE COUNTERBLAST IRONICAL 

IT 'S Strange that God should fash to frame 
The yearth and lift sae hie. 
An' clean forget to explain the same 
To a gentleman like me. 

They gutsy, donnered ither folk. 
Their weird they weel may dree; 

But why present a pig in a poke 
To a gentleman like me? 



UNDERWOODS 157 

They ither folk their parritch eat 

An' sup their sugared tea ; 
But the mind is no to be wyled wi' meat 

Wi' a gentleman like me. 

They ither folk, they court their joes 

At gloamin' on the lea ; 
But they 're made of a commoner clay, I suppose, 

Than a gentleman like me. 

They ither folk, for richt or wrang, 

They suffer, bleed, or dee ; 
But a' thir things are an emp'y sang , 

To a gentleman like me. 

It 's a different thing that I demand, 

Tho' humble as can be — 
A statement fair in my Maker's hand 

To a gentleman like me : 

A clear account writ fair an' broad, 

An' a plain apologie ; 
Or the deevil a ceevil word to God 

From a gentleman like me. 



158 UNDERWOODS 

X 

THEIR LAUREATE TO AN ACADEMY CLASS DINNER CLUB 

DEAR Thamson class, whaure'er I gang 
It aye comes ower me wi' a spang: ■ 
" Lordsakc ! they Thamson lads — (deil hang 

Or else Lord mend them)! — 
An' that zvanchancy annual sang 
I ne'er can send them! " 

Straucht, at the name, a trusty tyke, 
My conscience girrs ahint the dyke ; 
Straucht on my hinderlands I fyke 

To find a rhyme t' ye ; 
Pleased — although mebbe no pleased-like — 

To gie my time t' ye. 

** WeelJ' an' says you, wi' heavin' breist, 
'' Sae far, sac guid, hut what 's the neist? 
Yearly we gait her to the feast, 

A' hopefu' men — 
Yearly zve skelloch ' Hang the beast — 

Nae sang again! ' " 

My lads, an' what am I to say ? 
Ye shiirely ken the Muse's way : 
Yestreen, as gleg 's a tyke — the day, 

Thrawn like a cuddy : 
Her conduc', that to her 's a play, 

Deith to a body. 



UNDERWOODS 159 

Aft whan I sat an' made my mane, 
Aft whan I laboured burd-alane, 
Fishin' for rhymes an' findin' nane, 

Or nane were fit for ye — 
Ye judged me cauld 's a chucky stane — 

No car'n' a bit for ye ! 

But saw ye ne'er some pingein' bairn 

As weak as a pitaty-par'n' — 

Less iised wi' guidin' horse-shoe airn 

Than steerin' crowdie — 
Packed aff his lane, by moss an' cairn. 

To ca' the howdie. 

Wae 's me, for the puir callant than ! 
He wambles like a poke o' bran. 
An* the lowse rein, as hard 's he can, 

Pu's, trem'lin' bandit ; 
Till, blaff! upon his hinderlan' 

Behauld him landit. 

Sic-like — I awn the weary fac' — 
Whan on my muse the gate I tak, 
An' see her gleed e'e raxin' back 

To keek ahint her ; — 
To me, the brig o' Heev'n gangs black 

As blackest winter. 

" Lordsake ! zve 're aif,'' thinks I, " hut zvhaurf 
On zi'Jiat abhorred an' zvhinny scaur, 
Or zvhainmled in zvhat sea 0' glaur, 

Will she desert mef 
An' zvill she just disgrace f or zvaur — 

Will she no hurt me? " 



i6o UNDERWOODS 

Kittle the quaere! But at least 

The day I 've backed the fashious beast, 

While she, wi' mony a spang an' reist, 

Flang heels ower bonnet; 
An' a' triumphant — for your feast, 

Hae ! there 's your sonnet ! 



XI 

EMBRO HIE KIRK 

THE Lord Himsel' in former days 
Waled out the proper tiines for praise 
An' named the proper kind o' claes 

For folk to preach in : 
Preceese and in the chief o' ways 
Important teachin'. 

He ordered a' things late and air' ; 
He ordered folk to stand at prayer. 
(Although I cannae just mind where 

He gave the warnin'.) 
An' pit pomatum on their hair 

On Sabbath momin'. 

The hale o' life by His commands 
Was ordered to a body's hands ; 
But see! this corpus juris stands 

By a' forgotten ; 
An' God's religion in a' lands 

Is deid an' rotten. 

While thus the lave o' mankind 's lost, 
O' Scotland still God maks His boast — 



UNDERWOODS i6i 

Puir Scotland, on whase barren coast 

A score or twa 
Auld wives wi' mutches an' a hoast 

Still keep His law. 

In Scotland, a wheen canty, plain, 
Douce, kintry-leevin' folk retain 
The Truth — or did so aince — alane 

Of a' men leevin' ; 
An' noo just twa o' them remain — - 

Just Begg an' Niven. 

For noo, unfaithfii' to the Lord 
Auld Scotland Joins the rebel horde; 
Her human hymn-books on the board 

She noo displays: 
An' Embro Hie Kirk 's been restored 

In popish ways. 

O punctimi fonporis for action 
To a' o' the reformin' faction, 
If yet, by ony act or paction, 

Thocht, word, or sermon, 
This dark an' damnable transaction 

Micht yet determine ! 

For see — as Doctor Begg explains — 
Hoo easy 't 's diine ! a pickle weans, 
\Mia in the Hie Street gaither stanes 

By his instruction, 
The uncovenantit, pentit panes 

Ding to destruction. 

Up, Niven, or ower late — an' dash 
Laigh in the glaur that carnal hash; 



i62 UNDERWOODS 

Let spires and pews wi' gran' stramash 

Thegether fa' ; 
The rumlin' kist o' whustles smash 

In pieces sma'. 

Noo choose ye out a waie hammer ; 
About the knottit buttress clam'er ; 
Alang the steep roof stoyt an' stammer, 

A gate mis-chancy ; 
On the aul' spire, the bells' hie cha'mer. 

Dance your bit dancie. 

Ding, devel, dunt, destroy, an' ruin, 
Wi' carnal stanes the square bestrewin', 
Till your loud chaps frae Kyle to Fruin, 

Frae Hell to Heeven, 
Tell the guid wark that baith are doin' — 

Baith Begg an' Niven, 



UNDERWOODS 163 

XII 
THE Scotsman's return from abroad 

{In a letter froffi Mr. Thomson to Mr. yohnstone) 

IN mony a foreign pairt I 've been, 
An' mony an unco ferlie seen, 
Since, Mr. Johnstone, you and I 
Last walkit upon Cocklerye. 
Wi' gleg, observant een, I pass't 
By sea an' land, through East an' Wast, 
And still in ilka age an' station 
Saw naething but abomination. 
In thir uncovenantit lands 
The gangrel Scot uplifts his hands 

At lack of a' sectarian fiish'n. 
An' cauld religious destitution. 
He rins, puir man, frae place to place, 
Tries a' their graceless means o' grace. 
Preacher on preacher, kirk on kirk — 
This yin a stot an' thon a stirk — 
A bletherin' clan, no warth a preen, 
As bad as Smith of Aiberdeen ! 

At last, across the weary faem, 
Frae far, outlandish pairts I came. 
On ilka side o' me I fand 
Fresh tokens o' my native land. 
Wi' whatna joy I hailed them a' — 
The hilltaps standin' raw by raw, 
The public house, the Hielan' birks. 
And a' the bonnv U. P. kirks ! 



i64 UNDERWOODS 

But maistly thee, the bkiid o' Scots, 
Frae Maidenkirk to John o' Grots, 
The king o' drinks, as I conceive it, 
TaHsker, Isla, or GlenHvet ! 

For after years wi' a pockmantie 

Frae Zanzibar to AHcante, 

In mony a fash and sair affliction 

I gie't as my sincere conviction — • 

Of a' their foreign tricks an' pHskies, 

I maist abominate their whiskies. 

Nae doot, themsels, they ken it weel, 

An' wi' a hash o' leemon peel, 

And ice an' siccan filth, they ettle 

The stawsome kind o' goo to settle ; 

Sic wersh apothecary's broos wi' 

As Scotsmen scorn to fyle their moo's wi' 

An', man, I was a blithe hame-comcr 
Whan first I syndit out my rummer. 
Ye should hae seen me then, wi' care 
The less important pairts prepare ; 
Syne, weel contentit wi' it a', 
Pour in the speerits wi' a jaw! 
I didnae drink, I didnae speak, — 
I only snowkit up the reek. 
I was sae pleased therin to paidle, 
I sat an' plowtered wi' my ladle. 

An' blithe was I, the morrow's morn, 
To daunder through the stookit corn, 
And after a' my strange mishanters, 
Sit doun amang my ain dissenters. 
An', man, it was a joy to me 
The pu'pit an' the pews to see, 



UNDERWOODS. 165 

The pennies dirlin' in the plate, 
The elders lookin' on in state ; 
An' 'mang- the first, as it befell, 
Wha should I see, sir, but voursel' ! 



I was, and I will no deny it, 

At the first gliff a hantle tryit 

To see voursel' in sic a station — 

It seemed a doubtfu' dispensation. 

The feelin' was a mere digression ; 

For shiine I understood the session. 

An' mindin' Aiken an' M'Neil, 

I wondered they had dune sae weel. 

I saw I had mysel' to blame ; 

For had I but remained at hame, 

Aiblins — though no ava' deservin' 't — 

They micht hae named your humble servant. 

The kirk was filled, the door was steeked ; 

Up to the pu'pit ance I keeked ; 

I was mair pleased than I can tell — 

It was the minister himsel' ! 

Proud, proud was I to see his face. 

After sae lang awa' frae grace. 

Pleased as I was, I 'm no denyin' 

Some maitters were not edif yin' ; 

For first I fand — an' here was news ! — 

Mere hymn-books cockin' in the pews — 

A humanised abomination. 

Unfit for ony congregation. 

Syne, while I still was on the tenter, 

I scunnered at the new prezentor; 

I thocht him gesterin' an' cauld — 

A sair declension frae the auld. 



i66 UNDERWOODS 

Syne, as though a' the faith was wreckit, 
The prayer was not what I 'd exspeckit. 
Himsel', as it appeared to me, 
Was no the man he iised to be. 
But just as I was growin' vext 
He waled a maist judeecious text, 
An', launchin' into his prelections, 
Swoopt, wi' a skirl, on a' defections. 

what a gale was on my speerit 
To hear the p'ints o' doctrine clearit, 
And a' the horrors o' damnation 
Set furth wi' faithfii' ministration ! 
Nae shauchlin' testimony here — 

We were a' damned, an' that was clear. 

1 owned, wi' gratitude an' wonder, 
He was a pleisure to sit under. 



UNDERWOODS 167 

XIII 

1ATE in the nicht in bed I lay, 
J The winds were at their weary play. 
An' tirlin' wa's an' skirlin' wae 

Through Heev'n they battered ; — 
On-ding o' hail, on-blaff o' spray, 
The tempest blattered. 

The masoned house it dinled through ; 
It dung the ship, it cowped the coo' ; 
The rankit aiks it overthrew, 

Had braved a' weathers : 
The Strang sea-gleds it took an blew 

Awa' like feathers. 

The thrawes o' fear on a' were shed. 
An' the hair rose, an' slumber fled, 
An' lichts were lit an' prayers were said 

Through a' the kintry ; 
An' the cauld terror clum in bed 

Wi' a' an' sindry. 

To hear in the pit-mirk on hie 

The brangled coUieshangie flie, 

The warl', they thocht, wi' land an' sea, 

Itsel' wad cowpit; 
An' for auld airn, the smashed debris 

By God be rowpit. 

Meanwhile frae far Aldebaran, 
To folks wi' talescopes in han', 
O' ships that cowpit, winds that ran, 

Nae sign was seen, 
But the wee warl' in sunshine span 

As bricht 's a preen. 



i68 UNDERWOODS 

I, tae, by God's especial grace, 
Dwall denty in a bieldy place, 
Wi' hosened feet, wi' shaven face, 

Wi' dacent mainners : 
A grand example to the race 

C tautit sinners 1 

The wind may blaw, the heathen rage. 
The deil may start on the rampage ; — 
The sick in bed, the thief in cage — 

What 's a' to me ? 
Cosh in my house, a sober sage, 

I sit an' see. 

An' whiles the bluid spangs to my bree, 
To lie sae saft, to live sae free. 
While better men maun do an' die 

In unco places. 
" Whaiir's God? " I cry, an' " Whae is me 

To hae sic graces? " 

I mind the fecht the sailors keep. 
But fire or can'Ie, rest or sleep, 
In darkness an' the muckle deep ; 

An' mind beside 
The herd that on the hills o' sheep 

Has wandered wide. 

I mind me on the hoastin' weans — 
The penny joes on causey stanes — • 
The auld folk wi' the crazy banes, 

Baith auld an' puir, 
That aye maun thole the winds an' rains. 

An' labour sair. 



UNDERWOODS 169 

An' whiles I 'm kind o' pleased a blink. 
An' kind o' fleyed forby, to think, 
For a' my rowth o' meat an' drink 

An' waste o' crumb, 
I '11 mebbe have to thole wi' skink 

In Kingdom Come. 

For God whan jowes the Judgment bell, 
Wi' His ain Hand, His Leevin' Sel', 
Sail ryve the guid (as Prophets tell) 

Frae them that had it ; 
And in the reamin' pat o' Hell, 

The rich be scaddit. 

O Lord, if this indeed be sae. 
Let draw that sair an' happy day I 
Again' the warl', grawn auld an' gray. 

Up wi' your aixe ! 
And let the puir enjoy their play — 

I '11 thole my paiks. 



lyo UNDERWOODS 



XIV 

MY CONSCIENCE 

OF a' the ills that flesh can fear, 
The loss o' frien's, the lack o' gear, 
A yowlin' tyke, a glandered mear, 

A lassie's nonsense — 
There 's just ae thing I cannae bear, 
An' that 's my conscience. 

Whan day (an' a' excuse) has gane, 

An' wark is diine, and duty 's plain, 
An' to my chalmer a' my lane 

I creep apairt, 
My conscience! hoo the yammerin' pain 

Stends to my heart ! 

A' day wi' various ends in view 
The hairsts o' time I had to pu'. 
An' made a hash wad staw a soo. 

Let be a man ! — 
My conscience ! whan my ban's were fu', 

Whaur were ye then ? 

An' there were a' the lures o' life, 
There pleesure skirlin' on the fife, 
There anger, wi' the hotchin' knife 

Ground shairp in Hell — 
My conscience ! — you that 's Hke a wife ! — 

Whaur was yoursel'? 



UNDERWOODS 171 

I ken it fine : just waitin' here, 

To gar the evil waur appear, 

To clart the g-iiid, confuse the clear, 

Misca' the great, 
My conscience! an' to raise a steer 

When a's ower late. 

Sic-like, some tyke grawn auld and blind, 
\Mian thieves brok' through the gear to p'ind, 
Has lain his dozened length an' grinned 

At the disaster; 
An' the morn's mornin', wud's the wind, 

Yokes on his master. 



172 UNDERWOODS 

XV 

TO DOCTOR JOHN BROWN" 

( Whan the dear doctor, dear to «', 
Was still a7?iarig lis here belaw, 
I set my pipes his praise to blaw 

Wi' a' my s peer it ; 
But noOy Dear Doctor I he ''s a7ua\ 
An^ ne^'r can hear it.) 

BY Lyne and Tyne, by Thames and Tees 
By a' the various river-Dee's, 
In Mars and Manors 'yont the seas 

Or here at hame, 
Whaur e'er there 's kindly folk to please. 
They ken your name. 

They ken your name, they ken your tyke, 
They ken the honey from your byke ; 
But mebbe after a' your fyke, 

(The truth to tell) 
It 's just your honest Rab they like, 

An' no yoursel'. 

As at the gowff, some canny play'r 
Should tee a common ba' wi' care — 
Should flourish and deleever fair 

His souple shintie — 
An' the ba' rise into the air, 

A leevin' lintie: 

Sae in the game we writers play, 
There comes to some a bonny day, 



UNDERWOODS 173 

When a dear ferlie shall repay 

Their years o' strife, 
An' like your Rab, their things o' clay, 

Spreid wings o' life. 

Ye scarce deserved it, I 'm afraid — 
You that had never learned the trade, 
But just some idle mornin' strayed 

Into the schiile, 
An' picked the fiddle up an' played 

Like Neil himsel'. 

Your e'e was gleg, your fingers dink ; 
Ye didnae fash yoursel' to think, 
But wove, as fast as puss can link. 

Your denty wab : — 
Ye stapped your pen into the ink, 

An' there was Rab ! 

SInsyne, whaure'er your fortune lay 
By dowie den, by canty brae. 
Simmer an' winter, nicht an' day, 

Rab was aye wi' ye; 
An' a' the folk on a' the way 

Were blithe to see ye. 

O sir, the gods are kind indeed, 
An' hauld ye for an honoured held, 
That for a wee bit clarkit screed 

Sae weel reward ye, 
An' lend — puir Rabbie bein' dcid — > 

His ghaist to guard ye. 

For though, whaure'er yourse' may be, 
We 've just to turn an' glisk a wee, 



174 UNDERWOODS 

An' Rab at heel we 're shiire to see 
Wi' gladsome caper : 

The bogle of a bogle, he — 
A ghaist o' paper ! 

And as the auld-farrand hero sees 

In Hell a bogle Hercules, 

Pit there the lesser deid to please, 

While he himsel' 
Dwalls wi' the muckle gods at ease 

Far raised frae hell : 

Sae the true Rabbie far has gane 

On kindlier business o' his ain 

Wi' aulder frien's ; an' his breist-bane 

An' stumpie tailie, 
He birstles at a new hearth stane 

By James and Ailie. 



XVI 

IT 'S an owercome sooth for age an' youth 
And it brooks wi' nae denial, 
That the dearest friends are the auldest friends 
And the young are just on trial. 

There 's a rival bauld wi' young an' auld 
And it 's him that has bereft me ; 

For the surest friends are the auldest friends 
And the maist o' mines hae left me. 

There are kind hearts still, for friends to fill 
And fools to take and break them ; 

But the nearest friends are the auldest friends 
And the grave 's the place to seek them. 



BOOK III 

BEING 

SONGS OF TRAVEL AND OTHER VERSES 

Written principally in tJ:e South Seas, i8S8~l8g4 



Copyright, 1895, 1896, by 
Charles Scribner's Sons. 



THE VAGABOND 
(^To an air of Schubert') 

GIVE to me the life I love, 
Let the lave go by me, 
Give the jolly heaven above 
And the byway nigh me. 
Bed in the bush with stars to see. 

Bread I dip in the river — 
There 's the life for a man like me, 
There 's the life for ever. 

Let the blow fall soon or late, 
Let what will be o'er me ; 

Give the face of earth around 

And the road before me. 

Wealth I seek not, hope nor love. 
Nor a friend to know me ; 

All I seek the heaven above 
And the road below me. 

Or let autumn fall on me 

Where afield I linger. 
Silencing the bird on tree, 

Biting the blue finger: 
White as meal the frosty field — 

Warm the fireside haven — 
Not to autumn will I yield, 

Not to winter even ! 



lyS UNDERWOODS 

Let the blow fall soon or late. 

Let what will be o'er me ; 
Give the face of earth around. 
And the road before me. 
Wealth I ask not, hope nor love. 

Nor a friend to know me. 
All I ask the heaven above. 
And the road below me. 



II 

YOUTH AND LOVE I 

ONCE only by the garden g^ate 
Our lips we joined and parted 
I must fulfil an empty fate 
And travel the uncharted. 

Hail and farewell! I must arise. 
Leave here the fatted cattle, 

And paint on foreign lands and skies 
My Odyssey of battle. 

The untented Kosmos my abode, 

I pass, a wilful stranger : 
My mistress still the open road 

And the bright eyes of danger. 

Come ill or well, the cross, the crown. 
The rainbow or the thunder, 

I fling my soul and body down 
For God to plough them under. 



UNDERWOODS 179 

III 

YOUTH AND LOVE II 

TO the heart of youth the world is a highwayside 
Passing for ever, he fares ; and on either hand. 
Deep in the gardens golden pavilions hide, 

Nestle in orchard bloom, and far on the level land 
Call him with lighted lamp in the eventide. 

Thick as the stars at night when the moon is down, 
Pleasures assail him. He to his nobler fate 

Fares ; and but waves a hand as he passes on, 

Cries but a wayside word to her at the garden gate, 

Sings but a boyish stave and his face is gone. 



IV 

THE UNFORGOTTEN I 

IN dreams, unhappy, I behold you stand 
As heretofore : 
The unremembered tokens in your hand 
Avail no more. 

No more the morning glow, no more the grace, 

Enshrines, endears. 
Cold beats the light of time upon your face 

And shows your tears. 

He came, he went. Perchance you wept a while 

And then forgot. 
Ah me ! but he that left you with a smile 

Forgets you not. 



i8o UNDERWOODS 

V 

THE UNFORGOTTEN II 

SHE rested by the Broken Brook 
She drank of Weary Well, 
She moved beyond my lingering look, 
Ah, whither none can tell ! 

She came, she went. In other lands. 

Perchance in fairer skies. 
Her hands shall cling with other hands, 

Her eyes to other eyes. 

She vanished. In the sounding town 

Will she remember too? 
Will she recall the eyes of brown 

As I recall the blue? 



VI 

THE infinite shining heavens 
Rose and I saw in the night 
Uncountable angel stars 

Showering sorrow and light. 

I saw them distant as heaven. 
Dumb and shining and dead. 

And the idle stars of the night 
Were dearer to me than bread. 

Night after night in my sorrow 
The stars stood over the sea, 

Till lo! I looked in the dusk 

And a star had come down to me. 



UNDERWOODS i8i 

VII 

MADRIGAL 

PLAIN as the glistering planets shine 
When winds have cleaned the skies, 
Her love appeared, appealed for mine 
And wantoned in her eyes. 

Clear as the shining tapers burned 

On Cytherea's shrine. 
Those brimming, lustrous beauties turned, 

And called and conquered mine. 

The beacon-lamp that Hero lit 

No fairer shone on sea, 
No plainlier summoned will and wit. 

Than hers encouraged me. 

I thrilled to feel her influence near, 

I struck my flag at sight. 
Her starry silence smote my ear 

Like sudden drums at night. 

I ran as, at the cannon's roar, 

The troops the ramparts man — 
As in the holy house of yore 

The willing Eli ran. 

Here, lady, lo ! that servant stands 

You picked from passing men, 
And should you need nor heart nor hands 

He bows and goes again. 



i82 UNDERWOODS 



VIII 

TO you, let snow and roses 
And golden Idcks belong-. 
These are the world's enslavers, 

Let these delight the throng. 
For her of duskier lustre 

Whose favour still I wear, 
The snow be in her kirtle, 
The rose be in her liair ! 

The hue of highland rivers 

Careering, full and cool, 
From sable on to golden. 

From rapid on to pool — 
The hue of heather-honey. 

The hue of honey-bees, 
Shall tinge her golden shoulder. 

Shall gild her tawny knees. 



UNDERWOODS i8j 



IX 

LET BEAUTY AWAKE 

1ET Beauty awake in the morn from beautiful 
J dreams, 

Beauty awake from rest! 
Let Beauty awake 
For Beauty's sake 
In the hour when the birds awake in the brake 
And the stars are bright in the west ! 

Let Beauty awake in the eve from the slumber of day, 

Awake in the crimson eve! 

In the day's dusk end 

When the shades ascend, 
Let her wake to the kiss of a tender friend 

To render again and receive ! 



X 



I KNOW not how it is with you — 
/ love the first and last, 
The whole field of the present view, 
The whole flow of the past. 

One tittle of the things that are, 
Nor you should change nor I — 

One pebble in our path — one star 
In all our heaven of sky. 

Our lives, and every day and hour. 

One symphony appear: 
One road, one garden — every flower 

And every bramble dear. 



i84 UNDERWOODS 



XI 

I WILL make you brooches and toys for your 
delight 
Of bird-song at morning and star-shine at night. 
I will make a palace fit for you and me 
Of green days in forests and blue days at sea. 

I will make my kitchen, and you shall keep your room, 
Where white flows the river and bright blows the 

,broom, 
And you shall wash your linen and keep your body 

white 
In rainfall at morning and dewfall at night. 

And this shall be for music when no one else is near, 
The fine song for singing, the rare song to hear ! 
That only I remember, that only you admire, 
Of the broad road that stretches and the roadside fire. 



UNDERWOODS 185 

XII 

WE HAVE LOVED OF YORE 
( To an air of Diabelli ) 

BERRIED brake and reedy island, 
Heaven below, and only heaven above, 
Through the sky's inverted azure 

Softly swam the boat that bore our love. 
Bright were your eyes as the day; 
Bright ran the stream, 
Bright hung the sky above. 
Days of April, airs of Eden, 

How the glory died through golden hours, 
And the shining moon arising 

How the boat drew homeward filled with flowers ! 
Bright were your eyes in the night : 
We have lived, my love — 
O, we have loved, my love. 

Frost has bound our flowing river. 

Snow has whitened all our island brake. 
And beside the winter fagot 

Joan and Darby doze and dream and wake. 
Still, in the river of dreams 
Swims the boat of love — 
Hark ! chimes the falling oar ! 
And again in winter evens 

When on firelight dreaming fancy feeds, 
In those ears of aged lovers 

Love's own river warbles in the reeds. 
Love still the past, O, my love! 
A\'e have lived of yore, 
O, we have loved of vore. 



i86 UNDERWOODS 

XIII 

DITTY 
{To an air from Bach) 



T 



HE cock shall crow 

In the morning grey, 
The bugles blow 

At the break of day : 
The cock shall sing and the merry bugles ring, 
And all the little brown birds sing upon the spray. 

The thorn shall blow 

In the month of May, 
And my love shall go 

In her holiday array: 
But I shall lie in the kirkyard nigh 
While all the little brown birds sing upon the spray 



XIV 

MATER TRIUMPHANS 

SON of my woman's body, you go, to the drum and 
fife, 
To taste the colour of love and the other side of 

life — 
From out of the dainty the rude, the strong from out 

of the frail, 
Eternally through the ages from the female comes the 
male. 



UNDERWOODS 187 

The ten fingers and toes, and the shell-hke nail on 

each, 
The eyes bUnd as gems and the tongue attempting 

speech ; 
Impotent hands in my bosom, and yet they shall wield 

the sword! 
Drugged with slumber and milk, you wait the day of 

the Lord. 

Infant bridegroom, uncrowned king,unanointed priest. 
Soldier, lover, explorer, I see you nozzle the breast. 
You that grope in my bosom shall load the ladies with 

rings, 
You, that came forth through the doors, shall burst 

the doors of Kings. 



XV 

BRIGHT is the ring of words 
When the right man rings them, 
Fair the fall of songs 

When the singer sings them. 
Still they are carolled and said — 

On wings they are carried — 
After the singer is dead 
And the maker buried. 

Low as the singer lies 

In the field of heather, 
Songs of his fashion bring 

The swains together. 
And when the west is red 

With the sunset embers, 
The lover lingers and sings 

And the maid remembers. 



UNDERWOO DS 



XVI 

IN the highlands, in the country places, 
Where the old plain men have rosy faces, 
And the young fair maidens 
Quiet eyes ; 

Where essential silence cheers and blesses, . 
And for ever in the hill-recesses 
Her more lovely music 
Broods and dies. 

O to mount again where erst I haunted ; 

Where the old red hills are bird-enchanted, 

And the low green meadows 

Bright with sward ; 

And when even dies, the million-tinted, 

And the night has come, and planets glinted, 

Lo ! the valley hollow, 

Lamp-bestarred. 

O to dream, O to awake and wander 

There, and with delight to take and render. 

Through the trance of silence. 

Quiet breath ; 

Lo ! for there, among the flowers and grasses. 

Only the mightier movement sounds and passes 

Only winds and rivers, 

Life and death. 



UNDERWOODS 189 



XVII 

WANDERING WILLIE 

HOME no more home to me, whither must I 
wander ? 
Hunger my driver, I go where I must. 
Cold blows the winter wind over hill and heather ; 

Thick drives the rain, and my roof is in the dust. 
Loved of wise men was the shade of my roof-tree. 

The true word of welcome was spoken in the door — 
Dear days of old, with the faces in the firelight, 
Kind folks of old, you come again no more. 

Home was home then, my dear, full of kindly faces. 

Home was home then, my dear, happy for the child. 
Fire and the windows bright glittered on the moor- 
land ; 
Song, tuneful song, built a palace in the wild. 
Now, when day dawns on the brow of the moorland. 
Lone stands the house, and the chimney-stone is 
cold. 
Lone let it stand, now the friends are all departed, 
The kind hearts, the true hearts, that loved the place 
of old. 

Spring shall come, come again, calling up the moor- 
fowl. 
Spring shall bring the sun and rain, bring the bees 
and flowers : 
Red shall the heather bloom over hill and vallev. 
Soft flow the stream through the even-flowing 
hours ; 



190 



UNDER wo ODS 



Fair the day shine as it shone on my childhood — 
Fair shine the day on the house with open door ; 

Birds come and cry there and twitter in the chimney - 
But I go forever and come again no more. 



XVIII 

TO DR. HAKE 
( On receiving a copy of verses^ 

IN the beloved hour that ushers day, 
In the pure dew, under the breaking grey, 
One bird, ere yet the woodland quires awake, 
With brief reveille summons all the brake : 
Chirp, chirp, it goes ; nor waits an answer long ; 
And that small signal fills the grove with song. 

Thus on my pipe I breathed a strain or two ; 
It scarce was music, but 't was all I knew. 
It was not music, for I lacked the art, 
Yet what but frozen music filled my heart ? 
Chirp, chirp, I went, nor hoped a nobler strain ; 
But Heaven decreed I should not pipe in vain. 
For, lo! not far from there, in secret dale. 
All silent, sat an ancient nightingale. 
My sparrow notes he heard ; thereat awoke ; 
And with a tide of song his silence broke. 



UNDERWOODS 191 



XIX 

TO 



I KNEW thee strong and quiet like the hills ; 
I knew thee apt to pity, brave to endure : 
In peace or war a Roman full equipt. 
And just I knew thee, like the fabled kings 
Who by the loud sea-shore gave judgment forth, 
From dawn to eve, bearded and few of words. 
What, what, was I to honour thee? A child, 
A youth in ardour but a child in strength, 
Who after virtue's golden chariot-wheels 
Runs ever panting, nor attains the goal. 
So thought I, and was sorrowful at heart. 

Since then my steps have visited that flood 
Along whose shore the numerous footfalls cease. 
The voices and the tears of life expire. 
Thither the prints go down, the hero's way 
Trod large upon the sand, the trembling maid's : 
Nimrod that wound his trumpet in the wood, 
And the poor, dreaming child, hunter of flowers, 
That here his hunting closes with the great : 
So one and all go down, nor aught returns. 

For thee, for us, the sacred river waits ; 

For me, the unworthy, thee, the perfect friend. 

There Blame desists, there his unfaltering dogs 

He from the chase recalls, and homeward rides ; 

Yet Praise and Love pass over and go in. 

So when, beside that margin, I discard 

My more than mortal weakness, and with thee 



192 UNDERWOODS 

Through that still land unfearing I advance 
If then at all we keep the touch of joy 
Thou shalt rejoice to find me altered — I, 
O Felix, to behold thee still unchanged. 



XX 



THE morning drum-call on my eager ear 
Thrills unforgotten yet ; the morning dew 
Lies yet undried along my field of noon. 
But now I pause at whiles in what I do, 
And count the bell, and tremble lest I hear 

(My work untrinimed) the sunset gun too soon. 



XXI 

I HAVE trod the upward and the downward slope ; 
I have endured and done in days before ; 
I have longed for all, and bid farewell to hope ; 
And I have lived and loved, and closed the door. 



H 



XXII 



E hears with gladdened heart the thunder 
Peal, and loves the falling dew ; 



He knows the earth above and under — 
Sits and is content to view. 

He sits beside the dying ember, 
God for hope and man for friend. 

Content to see, glad to remember. 
Expectant of the certain end. 



UNDERWOODS 193 



XXIII 

THE LOST OCCASION 

FAREWELL, fair day and fading light ! 
The clay-born here, with westward sight, 
Marks the huge sun now downward soar. 
Farewell. We twain shall meet no more. 

Farewell. I watch with bursting sigh 
My late contemned occasion die. 
I linger useless in my tent : 
Farewell, fair day, so foully spent ! 

Farewell, fair day. If any God 
At all consider this poor clod. 
He who the fair occasion sent 
Prepared and placed the impediment. 

Let him diviner vengeance take — 
Give me to sleep, give me to wake 
Girded and shod, and bid me play 
The hero in the coming day ! 



«3 



194 UNDERWOODS 

XXIV 

IF THIS WERE FAITH 

GOD, if this were enough, 
That I see things bare to the buff 
And up to the buttocks in mire ; 
That I ask nor hope nor hire. 
Nut in the husk, 
Nor dawn beyond the dusk, 
Nor Hfe beyond death : 
God, if this were faith ? 

Having felt thy wind in my face 

Spit sorrow and disgrace. 

Having seen thine evil doom 

In Golgotha and Khartoum, 

And the brutes, the work of thine hands. 

Fill with injustice lands 

And vStain with blood the sea : 

If still in my veins the glee 

Of the black night and the sun 

And the lost battle, run : 

If, an adept. 

The iniquitous lists I still accept 

With joy, and joy to endure and be withstood. 

And still to battle and perish for a dream of good 

God, if that were enough ? 

If to feel, in the ink of the slough. 

And the sink of the mire. 

Veins of glory and fire 

Run through and transpierce and transpire. 



UNDERWOODS 195 

And a secret purpose of glory in every part, 

And the answering glory of battle fill my heart ; 

To thrill with the joy of girded men 

To go o.n for ever and fail and go on again, 

And be mauled to the earth and arise, 

And contend for the shade of a word and a thing not 

seen with the eyes : 
With the half of a broken hope for a pillow at night 
That somehow the right is the right 
And the smooth shall bloom from the rough : 
Lord, if that were enough? 



XXV 

MY WIFE 

TRUSTY, dusky, vivid, true, 
With eyes of gold and bramble-dew, 
Steel-true and blade-straight, 
The great artificer 
Made my mate. 

Honour, anger, valour, fire; 

A love that life could never tire, 

Death quench or evil stir, 
The mighty master 

Gave to her. 

Teacher, tender, comrade, wife, 
A fellow-farer true through life. 

Heart-whole and soul-free 
The august father 

Gave to me. 



196 UNDERWOODS 



XXVI 

WINTER 

IN rigorous hours, when down the iron lane 
The redbreast looks in vain 
For hips and haws, 
Lo, shining flowers upon my window-pane 
The silver pencil of the winter draws. 

When all the snowy hill 

And the bare woods are still ; 

When snipes are silent in the frozen bogs, 

And all the garden garth is whelmed in mire, 
Lo, by the hearth, the laughter of the logs — 

More fair than roses, lo, the flowers of fire ! 

Saranac Lake. 



UNDERWOODS 197 



XXVII 

THE stormy evening closes now in vain, 
Loud wails the wind and beats the driving rain, 
While here in sheltered house 

With fire-ypainted walls, 
I hear the wind abroad, 

I hark the calling squalls — 
'" Blow, blow," I cry, " you burst your cheeks in vain ! 
Blow, blow," I cry, '' my love is home again ! " 

Yon ship you chase perchance but yesternight 
Bore still the precious freight of my delight. 
That here in sheltered house 

With fire-ypainted walls. 
Now hears the wind abroad. 
Now harks the calling squalls. 
'' Blow, blow," I cry, " in vain you rouse the sea, 
My rescued sailor shares the fire with me ! " 



198 UNDERWOODS 



XXVIII 

TO AN ISLAND PRINCESS 

SINCE long ago, a child at home, 
I read and longed to rise and roam, 
Where'er I went, whate'er I willed. 
One promised land my fancy filled. 
Hence the long roads my home I made ; 
Tossed much in ships : have often laid 
Below the uncurtained sky my head. 
Rain-deluged and wind-buffeted: 
And many a thousand hills I crossed 
And corners turned — Love's labour lost, 
Till, Lady, to your isle of sun 
I came, not hoping; and, like one 
Snatched out of blindness, rubbed my eyes. 
And hailed my promised land with cries. 

Yes, Lady, here I was at last; 
Here found I all I had forecast : 
The long roll of the sapphire sea 
That keeps the land's virginity ; 
The stalwart giants of the wood 
Laden with toys and flowers and food; 
The precious forest pouring out 
To compass the whole town about ; 
The town itself with streets of lawn. 
Loved of the moon, blessed by the dawn, 
Where the brown children all the day 
Keep up a ceaseless noise of play, 



UNDERWOODS 199 

Play in the sun, play in the rain, 
Nor ever quarrel or complain ; — 
And late at night, in the woods of fruit, 
Hark ! do you hear the passing flute ? 

I threw one look to either hand, 
And knew I was in Fairyland. 
And yet one point of being so, 
I lacked. For, Lady (as you know), 
Whoever by his might of hand 
Won entrance into Fairyland, 
Found always with admiring eyes 
A Fairy princess kind and wise. 

It was not long I waited ; soon 
Upon my threshold, in broad noon, 
Fair and helpful, wise and good, 
The Fairy Princess Moe stood. 

Tantira, Tahiti, Nov. 5, 1888. 



200 UNDERWOODS 



XXIX 

TO KALAKAUA 
( With the gift of a pearly 

THE Silver Ship, my King — that was her name 
In the bright islands whence your fathers came— 
The Silver Ship, at rest from winds and tides, 
Below your palace in your harbour rides : 
And the seafarers, sitting safe on shore, 
Like eager merchants count their treasures o'er. 
One gift they find, one strange and lovely thing, 
Now doubly precious since it pleased a king. 

The right, my liege^ is ancient as the lyre 
Vox bards to give to kings what kings admire. 
'T is mine to ofifer for Apollo's sake ; 
And since the gift is fitting, yours to take. 
To golden hands the golden pearl I bring : 
The ocean jewel to the island king. 

Honolulu, Feb. 3, 1889. 



UNDERWOODS 201 



XXX 

TO PRINCESS KAIULANI 

FORTH from her land to mine she goes, 
The island maid, the island rose, 
Light of heart and bright of face : 
The daughter of a double race. 
Her islands here, in Southern sun. 
Shall mourn their Kaiulani gone. 
And I, in her dear banyan shade. 
Look vainly for my little maid. 
But our Scots islands far away 
Shall glitter with unwonted day, 
And cast for once their tempests by 
To smile in Kaiulani's eye. 

Honolulu. 

Written in April to Kaiulani in the April of her age ; and at 
Waikiki, within easy walk of Kaiulani's banyan ! "When she comes 
to my land and her father's, and the rain beats upon the window 
(as I fear it will), let her look at this page; it will be like a weed 
gathered and pressed at home; and she will remember her own 
islands, and the shadow of the mighty tree ; and she will hear the 
peacocks screaming in the dusk and the wind blowing in the palms ; 
and she will think of her father sitting there alone. — R. L. S. 



202 UNDERWOODS 



XXXI 

TO MOTHER MARYANNE 

TO see the infinite pity of this place, 
The mangled limb, the devastated face, 
The innocent sufferer smiling at the rod — 
A fool were tempted to deny his God. 
He sees, he shrinks. But if he gaze again, 
Lo, beauty springing from the breast of pain ! 
He marks the sisters on the mournful shores ; 
And even a fool is silent and adores. 

Guest House, Kalawao, Molokai. 



UNDERWOODS 203 

XXXII 

IN MEMORIAM, E. H. 

I KNEW a silver head was bright beyond compare, 
I knew a queen of toil with a crown of silver hair. 
Garland of valour and sorrow, of beauty and renown. 
Life, that honours the brave, crowned her himself with 
the crown. 

The beauties of youth are frail, but this was a jewel 

of age. 
Life, that delights in the brave, gave it himself for a 

gage. 
Fair was the crown to behold, and beauty its poorest 

part — 
At once the scar of the wound and the order pinned 

on the heart. 

The beauties of man are frail, and the silver lies in the 

dust, 
And the queen that we call to mind sleeps with the 

brave and the just; 
Sleeps with the weary at length ; but honoured and 

ever fair. 
Shines in the eye of the mind the crown of the silver 

hair. 

Honolulu. 



204 UNDERWOODS 



XXXIII 

TO MY WIFE 
(A Fragment) 

LONG must elapse ere you behold again 
4 Green forest frame the entry of the lane — 
The wild lane with the bramble and the briar, 
The year-old cart-tracks perfect in the mire, 
The wayside smoke, perchance, the dwarfish huts, 
And ramblers' donkey drinking from the ruts : — 
Long ere you trace how deviously it leads, 
Back from man's chimneys and the bleating meads 
To the woodland shadow, to the silvan hush, 
When but the brooklet chuckles in the brush — 
Back from the sun and bustle of the vale 
To where the great voice of the nightingale 
Fills all the forest like a single room. 
And all the banks smell of the golden broom ; 
So wander on until the eve descends, 
And back returning to your firelit friends. 
You see the rosy sun, despoiled of light, 
Hung, caught in thickets, like a schoolboy's kite. 

Here from the sea the unfruitful sun shall rise, 
Bathe the bare deck and blind the unshielded eyes ; 
The allotted hours aloft shall wheel in vain 
And in the unpregnant ocean plunge again. 
Assault of squalls that mock the watchful guard, 
And pluck the busting canvas from the yard, 
And senseless clamour of the calm, at night 
Must mar your slumbers. By the plunging light, 
In beetle-haunted, most unwomanly bower 
Of the wild-swerving cabin, hour by hour . . . 

Schooner Equator. 



UN DERWOODS 
XXXIV 

TO THE MUSE 

RESIGN the rhapsody, the dream, 
- To men of larger reach ; 
Be ours the quest of a plain theme, 
The piety of speech. 

As monkish scribes from morning break 

Toiled till the close of light, 
Nor thought a day too long to make 

One line or letter bright : 

We also with an ardent mind. 
Time, wealth, and fame forgot. 

Our glory in our patience find 
And skim, and skim the pot : 

Till last, when round the house we hear 

The evensong of birds, 
One corner of blue heaven appear 

In our clear well of words. 

Leave, leave it then, muse of my heart! 

Sans finish and sans frame. 
Leave unadorned by needless art 

The picture as it came. 



205 



Al'EMAMA. 



2o6 UNDERWOODS 

XXXV 

TO MY OLD FAMILIARS 

DO you remember — can we e'er forget ? — 
How, in the coiled perplexities of youth, 
In our wild climate, in our scowling town, 
We gloomed and shivered, sorrowed, sobbed and 

feared ? 
The belching winter wind, the missile rain, 
The rare and welcome silence of the snows, 
The laggard morn, the haggard day, the night, 
The grimy spell of the nocturnal town. 
Do you remember? — Ah, could one forget! 

As when the fevered sick that all night long 
Listed the wind intone, and hear at last 
The ever-welcome voice of chanticleer 
Sing in the bitter hour before the dawn, — 
With sudden ardour, these desire the day : 
So sang in the gloom of youth the bird of hope ; 
So we, exulting, hearkened and desired. 
For lo ! as in the palace porch of life 
We huddled with chimeras, from within — 
How sweet to hear ! — the music swelled and fell, 
And through the breach of the revolving doors 
What dreams of splendour blinded us and fled ! 
I have since then contended and rejoiced; 
Amid the glories of the house of life 
Profoundly entered, and the shrine beheld : 
Yet when the lamp from my expiring eyes 
Shall dwindle and recede, the voice of love 
Fall insignificant on my closing ears, 



UNDERWOODS 207 

What sound shall come but the old cry of the wind 

In our inclement city ? what return 

But the image of the emptiness of youth, 

Filled with the sound of footsteps and that voice 

Of discontent and rapture and despair? 

So, as in darkness, from the magic lamp, 

The momentary pictures gleam and fade 

And perish, and the night resurges — these 

Shall I remember, and then all forget. 

Apemama. 

XXXVI 

THE tropics vanish, and meseems that I, 
From Halkerside, from topmost Allermuir, 
Or steep Caerketton, dreaming gaze again. 
Far set in fields and woods, the town I see 
Spring gallant from the shallows of her smoke, 
Cragged, spired, and turreted, her virgin fort 
Beflagged. About, on seaward-drooping hills, 
New folds of city glitter. Last, the Forth 
Wheels ample waters set with sacred isles. 
And populous Fife smokes with a score of towns. 

There, on the sunny frontage of a hill. 

Hard by the house of kings, repose the dead, 

My dead, the ready and the strong of word. 

Their works, the salt-encrusted, still survive ; 

The sea bombards their founded towers ; the night 

Thrills pierced with their strong lamps. The artificers. 

One after one, here in this grated cell. 

Where the rain erases and the rust consumes. 

Fell upon lasting silence. Continents 

And continental oceans intervene; 



2o8 UNDERWOODS 

A sea uncharted, on a lampless isle, 
Environs and confines their wandering child 
In vain. The voice of generations dead 
Summons me, sitting distant, to arise. 
My numerous footsteps nimbly to retrace, 
And all mutation over, stretch me down 
In that denoted city of the dead. 

Apemama. 



XXXVII 

TO s. c. 



I 



HEARD the pulse of the besieging sea 
Throb far away all night. I heard the wind 
Fly crying and convulse tumultuous palms. 
I rose and strolled. The isle was all bright sand, 
And flailing fans and shadows of the palm ; 
The heaven all moon and wind and the blind vault ; 
The keenest planet slain, for Venus slept. 

The king, my neighbour, with his host of wives, 
Slept in the precinct of the palisade ; 
Where single, in the wind, under the moon. 
Among the slumbering cabins, blazed a fire, 
Sole street-lamp and the only sentinel. 

To other lands and nights my fancy turned — 
To London first, and chiefly to your house. 
The many-pillared and the well-beloved. 
There yearning fancy lighted ; there again 
In the upper room I lay, and heard far ofif 
The unsleeping city murmur like a shell ; 
The muflied tramp of the Museum guard 
Once more went by me ; I beheld again 



UNDERWOODS 209 

Lamps vainly brighten the dispeopled street; 
Again I longed for the returning morn, 
The awaking traffic, the bestirring birds, 
The consentaneous trill of tiny song 
That weaves round monumental cornices 
A passing charm of beauty. Most of all, 
For your light foot I wearied, and your knock 
That was the glad reveille of my day. 

Lo, now, when to your task in the great house 
At morning through the portico you pass, 
One moment glance, where by the pillared wall 
Far-voyaging island gods, begrimed with smoke, 
Sit now unworshipped, the rude monument 
Of faiths forgot and races undivined : 
Sit now disconsolate, remembering well 
The priest, the victim, and the songful crowd, 
The blaze of the blue noon, and that huge voice 
Incessant, of the breakers on the shore. 
As far as these from their ancestral shrine, 
So far, so foreign, your divided friends 
Wander, estranged in body, not in mind. 

Apemama. 



14 



2IO UNDERWOODS 



XXXVIII 

THE HOUSE OF TEMBINOKA 

At my departure from the island of Apemama, for which you 
will look in vain in most atlases, the King and I agreed, since we 
both set up to be in the poetical way, that we should celebrate our 
separation in verse. Whether or not his Majesty has been true to 
his bargain, the laggard posts of the Pacific may perhaps inform 
me in six months, perhaps not before a year. The following lines 
represent my part of the contract, and it is hoped, by their pictures 
of strange manners, they may entertain a civilised audience. Noth- 
ing throughout has been invented or exaggerated ; the lady herein 
referred to as the author's muse has confined herself to stringing 
into rhyme facts or legends that I saw or heard during two months' 
residence upon the island. — R. L. S. 



ENVOI 

ZET lis, zvlio part like brothers, part like hards; 
1 And you in your tongue and measure, I in mine, 
Our now diznsion duly solemnise. 
Unlike the strains, and yet the theme is one: 
The strains unlike, and how unlike their fate! 
You to the blinding palace-yard shall call 
The prefect of the singers, and to him, 
Listening devout, your valedictory verse 
Deliver ; lie, his attribute fulfilled, 
To the island chorus hand your measures on, 
Wed now with harmony: so them, at last, 
Night after night, in the open hall of dance. 
Shall thirty matted men, to the clapped hand, 
Intone and bray and bark. Ihifortunate ! 
Paper and print alone shall honour mine. 



UNDERWOODS 211 



THE SONG 

Let now the King his ear arouse 

And toss the bosky ringlets from his brows, 

The while, our bond to implement, 

Aly muse relates and praises his descent. 



Bride of the shark, her valour first I sing 
Who on the lone seas quickened of a King. 
She, from the shore and puny homes of men, 
Beyond the climber's sea-discerning ken. 
Swam, led by omens ; and devoid of fear, 
Beheld her monstrous paramour draw near. 
She gazed ; all round her to the heavenly pale. 
The simple sea was void of isle or sail — 
Sole overhead the unsparing sun was reared — 
When the deep bubbled and the brute appeared, 
pjut she, secure in the decrees of fate, 
Made strong her bosom and received the mate. 
And men declare, from that marine embrace 
Conceived the virtues of a stronger race. 

II 

Her stern descendant next I praise. 

Survivor of a thousand frays : — 

In the hall of tongues who ruled the throng; 

Led and was trusted by the strong ; 

And when spears were in the wood, 

Like a tower of vantage stood : — 

Whom, not till seventy years had sped, 

L^nscarred of breast, erect of head. 

Still light of step, still bright of look. 

The hunter, Death, had overtook. 



UNDERWOODS 



III 



His sons, the brothers twain, I sing, 
Of whom the elder reigned a King. 
No Childeric he, yet much decHned 
From his rude sire's imperious mind. 
Until his day came when he died, 
He lived, he reigned, he versified. 
But chiefly him I celebrate 
That was the pillar of the state, 
Ruled, wise of word and bold of mien, 
The peaceful and the warlike scene ; 
And played alike the leader's part 
In lawful and unlawful art. 
His soldiers with emboldened ears 
Heard him laugh among the spears. 
He could deduce from age to age 
The web of island parentage ; 
Best lay the rhyme, best lead the dance, 
For any festal circumstance : 
And fitly fashion oar and boat, 
A palace or an armour coat. 
None more availed than he to raise 
The strong, suffumigating blaze 
Or knot the wizard leaf : none more. 
Upon the untrodden windward shore 
Of the isle, beside the beating main. 
To cure the sickly and constrain, 
With muttered words and waving rods. 
The gibbering and the whistling gods. 
But he, though thus with hand and head 
He ruled, commanded, charmed, and led, 
And thus in virtue and in might 
Towered to contemporary sight — 



UNDERWOODS 213 

Still in fraternal faith and love, 
Remained below to reach above, 
Gave and obeyed the apt command, 
Pilot and vassal of the land. 



IV 

My Tembinok, from men like these 

Inherited his palaces, 

His right to rule, his powers of mind, 

His cocoa-islands sea-enshrined. 

Stern bearer of the sword and whip, 

A master passed in mastership, 

He learned, without the spur of need, 

To write, to cipher, and to read ; 

From all that touch on his prone shore 

Augments his treasury of lore. 

Eager in age as erst in youth 

To catch an art, to learn a truth. 

To paint on the internal page 

A clearer picture of the age. 

His age, you say ? But ah, not so ! 

In his lone isle of long ago, 

A royal Lady of Shalott, 

Sea-sundered, he beholds it not ; 

He only hears it far away. 

The stress of equatorial day 

He suffers ; he records the while 

The vapid annals of the isle ; 

Slaves bring him praise of his renown. 

Or cackle of the palm-tree town ; 

The rarer ship and the rare boat. 

He marks ; and only hears remote, 

Where thrones and fortunes rise and reel, 

The thunder of the turning wheel. 



214 UNDERWOODS 



For the unexpected tears he shed 

At my departing, may his hon head 

Not whiten, his revolving years 

No fresh occasion minister of tears ; 

At book or cards, at work or sport, 

Him may the breeze across the palace court 

For ever fan ; and swelling near 

For ever the loud song divert his ear. 

Schooner Equator, at Sea. 



UNDERWOODS 21 

XXXIX 

THE WOODMAN 

IN all the grove, nor stream nor bird 
Nor aught beside my blows was heard, 
And the woods wore their noonday dress — 
The glory of their silentness. 
From the island summit to the seas, 
Trees mounted, and trees drooped, and trees 
Groped upward in the gaps. The green 
Inarboured talus and ravine 
By fathoms. By the multitude 
The rugged columns of the wood 
And bunches of the branches stood: 
Thick as a mob, deep as a sea. 
And silent as eternity. 

With lowered axe, with backward head, 
Late from this scene my labourer fled, 
And with a ravelled tale to tell, 
Returned. Some denizen of hell, 
Dead man or disinvested god, 
Had close behind him peered and trod. 
And triumphed when he turned to flee. 
How different fell the lines with me ! 
Whose eye explored the dim arcade 
Impatient of the uncoming shade — 
Shy elf, or dryad pale and cold. 
Or mystic lingerer from of old : 
Vainly. The fair and stately things, 
Impassive as departed kings, 
All still in the wood's stillness stood. 
And dumb. The rooted multitude 



2i6 UNDERWOODS 

Nodded and brooded, bloomed and dreamed. 
Unmeaning, undivined. It seemed 
No other art, no hope, they knew, 
Than cUitch the earth and seek the blue. 

Mid vegetable king and priest 

And stripling, I (the only beast) 

Was at the beast's work, killing; hewed 

The stubborn roots across, bestrewed 

The glebe with the dislustred leaves, 

And bid the saplings fall in sheaves; 

Bursting across the tangled math 

A ruin that I called a path, 

A Golgotha that, later on. 

When rains had watered, and suns shone. 

And seeds enriched the place, should bear 

And be called garden. Here and there, 

I spied and plucked by the green hair 

A foe more resolute to live, 

The toothed and killing sensitive. 

He, semi-conscious, fled the attack; 

He shrank and tucked his branches back; 

And straining by his anchor strand. 

Captured and scratched the rooting hand. 

I saw him crouch, I felt him bite ; 

And straight my eyes were touched with sight. 

I saw the wood for what it was : 

The lost and the victorious cause, 

The deadly battle pitched in line, 

Saw silent weapons cross and shine: 

Silent defeat, silent assault, 

A battle and a burial vault. 

Thick round me in the teeming mud 
Briar and fern strove to the blood. 



UNDERWOODS 217 

The hooked Hana in his gin 

Noosed his reluctant neighbours in : 

There the green murderer throve and spread. 

Upon his smothering victims fed, 

And wantoned on his chmbing coil. 

Contending roots fought for the soil 

Like frightened demons : with despair 

Competing branches pushed for air. 

Green conquerors from overhead 

Bestrode the bodies of their dead : 

The Caesars of the silvan field, 

Unused to fail, foredoomed to yield : 

For in the groins of branches, lo! 

The cancers of the orchid grow. 

Silent as in the listed ring 

Two chartered wrestlers strain and cling. 

Dumb as by yellow Hooghly's side 

The suffocating captives died : 

So hushed the woodland warfare goes 

Unceasing; and the silent foes 

Grapple and smother, strain and clasp 

Without a cry, without a gasp. 

Here also sound thy fans, O God, 

Here too thy banners move abroad : 

Forest and city, sea and shore, 

And the whole earth, thy threshing-floor ! 

The drums of war, the drums of peace. 

Roll through our cities without cease, 

And all the iron halls of life 

Ring with the unremitting strife. 

The common lot we scarce perceive. 
Crowds perish, we nor mark nor grieve : 



2i8 UNDERWOODS 

The bugle calls — we mourn a few ! 

What corporal's guard at Waterloo? 

What scanty hundreds more or less 

In the man-devouring Wilderness? 

What handful bled on Delhi ridge? 

— See, rather, London, on thy bridge 

The pale battalions trample by, 

Resolved to slay, resigned to die. 

Count, rather, all the maimed and dead 

In the unbrotherly war of bread. 

,See, rather, under sultrier skies 

What vegetable Londons rise, 

And teem, and suffer without sound. 

Or in your tranquil garden ground, 

Contented, in the falling gloom, 

Saunter and see the roses bloom. 

That these might live, what thousands died ! 

All day the cruel hoe was plied ; 

The ambulance barrow rolled all day ; 

Your wife, the tender, kind, and gay. 

Donned her long gauntlets, caught the spud 

And bathed in vegetable blood ; 

And the long massacre now at end, 

See ! where the lazy coils ascend, 

See, where the bonfire sputters red 

At even, for the innocent dead. 

Why prate of peace? when, warriors all, 

We clank in harness into hall. 

And ever bare upon the board 

Lies the necessary sword. 

In the green field or quiet street, 

Besieged we sleep, beleaguered eat, 

Labour by day and wake o' nights, 

In war with rival appetites. 



UNDERWOODS 219 

The rose on roses feeds ; the lark 
On larks. The sedentary clerk 
All morning with a diligent pen 
Murders the babes of other men ; 
And like the beasts of wood and park. 
Protects his whelps, defends his den. 

Unshamed the narrow aim I hold ; 
,1 feed my sheep, patrol my fold ; 
Breathe war on wolves and rival flocks, 
A pious outlaw on the rocks 
Of God and morning; and when time 
Shall bow, or rivals break me, climb 
Where no undubbed civilian dares, 
In my war harness, the loud stairs 
Of honour ; and my conqueror 
Hail me a warrior fallen in war. 

Vailima. 

XL 

TROPIC RAIN 

AS the single pang of the blow, when the metal is 
. mingled well, 
Rings and lives and resounds in all the bounds of the 

bell: 
So the thunder above spoke with a single tongue, 
So in the heart of the mountain the sound of it rum- 
bled and clung. 

Sudden the thunder was drowned — quenched was 

the levin light . . . 
And the angel-spirit of rain laughed out loud in the 

night. 



220 UNDERWOODS 

Loud as the maddened river raves in the cloven glen, 
Angel of rain! you laughed and leaped on the roofs 

of men ; 
And the sleepers sprang in their beds, and joyed and 

feared as you fell. 
You struck, and my cabin quailed; the roof of it 

roared like a bell. 
You spoke, and at once the mountain shouted and 

shook with brooks. 
You ceased, and the day returned, rosy, with virgin 

looks. 
And methought that beauty and terror are only one, 

not two ; 
And the world has room for love, and death, and thun- 
der, and dew ; 
And all the sinews of hell slumber in summer air ; 
And the face of God is a rock, but the face of the rock 

is fair. 
Beneficent streams of tears flow at the finger of pain ; 
And out of the cloud that smites, beneficent rivers of 

rain. 

Vah-ima. 

XLI 

AN END OF TRAVEL 

LET now your soul in this substantial world 
^ Some anchor strike. Be here the body moored : 
This spectacle immutably from now 
The picture in your eye ; and when time strikes, 
And the green scene goes on the instant blind, 
The ultimate helpers, where your horse to-day 
Conveyed you dreaming, bear your body dead. 

Vailima. 



UNDERWOODS 221 



XLII 

WE uncommiserate pass into the night 
From the loud banquet, and departing leave 
A tremor in men's memories, faint and sweet 
And frail as music. Features of our face. 
The tones of the voice, the touch of the loved hand, 
Perish and vanish, one by one, from earth : 
]^Iean\vhile, in the hall of song, the multitude 
Applauds the new performer. One, perchance, 
One ultimate survivor lingers on. 
And smiles, and to his ancient heart recalls 
The long forgotten. Ere the morrow die, 
He too, returning, through the curtain comes, 
And the new age forgets us and goes on. 



XLIII 

THE LAST SIGHT 

ONCE more I saw him. In the lofty room, 
Where oft with lights and company his tongue 
Was trump to honest laughter, sate attired 
A something in his likeness. — " Look ! " said one, 
Unkindly kind, " look up, it is your boy ! " 
And the dread changeling gazed on me in vain. 



222 UNDERWOODS 



XLIV 

SING me a song of a lad that is gone, 
Say, could that lad be I ? 
Merry of soul he sailed on a day 
Over the sea to Skye. 

Mull was astern, Rum on the port, 

Egg on the starboard bow ; 
Glory of youth glowed in his soul : 

Where is that glory now ? 

Sing me a song of a lad that is gone, 

Say, could that lad be I ? 
Merry of soul he sailed on a day 

Over the sea to Skye. 

Give me again all that was there. 
Give me the sun that shone ! 

Give me the eyes, give me the soul. 
Give me the lad that 's gone ! 

Sing me a song of a lad that is gone. 

Say, could that lad be I ? 
Merry of soul he sailed on a day 

Over the sea to Skye. 

Billow and breeze, islands and seas. 
Mountains of rain and sun. 

All that was good, all that was fair, 
All that was me is gone. 



UNDERWOODS 223 



XLV 

TO S. R. CROCKETT 
{In Reply to a Dedication) 

BLOWS the wind to-day, and the sun and the rain 
are flying, 
Blows the w4nd on the moors to-day and now, 
Where about the graves of the martyrs the whaups are 
crying, 
My heart remembers how ! 

Grey recumbent tombs of the dead in desert places, 
Standing stones on the vacant wine-red moor. 

Hills of sheep, and the homes of the silent vanished 
races. 
And winds, austere and pure : 

Be it granted me to behold you again in dying. 
Hills of home ! and to hear again the call ; 

Hear about the graves of the martyrs the peewees 
crying. 
And hear no more at all. 

Vailima. 



224 UNDERWOODS 



XLVI 

EVENSONG 

THE embers of the day are red 
Beyond the murky hill. 
The kitchen smokes : the bed 
In the darkling house is spread: 
The great sky darkens overhead, 
And the great woods are shrill. 
So far have I been led, 
Lord, by Thy will : 
So far I have followed, Lord, and wondered still. 

The breeze from the embalmed land 
Blows sudden toward the shore, 
And claps my cottage door. 
I hear the signal. Lord — I understand. 
The night at Thy command 

Comes. I will eat and sleep and will not question 
more. 

Vailima. 



BALLADS 



CONTENTS 

THE SONG OF RAHfiRO 

Page 

Dedication : to Ori a Ori 230 

I The Slaying of TAmatea 231 

II The Venging of Tamatea 241 

III Rahero 253 

Notes to the Song of Rahero 263 

THE FEAST OF FAMINE 

I The Priest's Vigil 269 

II The Lovers 273 

III The Feast 278 

IV The Raid 284 

Notes to the Feast of Famine 291 

TICONDEROGA: A Legend of the West Highlands. 

I The Saying of the Name 295 

II The Seeking of the Name 300 

III The Place of the Name 302 

Notes to Ticonderoga 305 

HEATHER ALE: A Galloway Legend . . . .309 

Note to Heather Ale 312 

CHRISTMAS AT SEA 315 



THE SONG OF RAHERO 



TO ORI A OKI 

Ori, my brother in the island mode, 

Ift every tongue and tnea^iing rmich my friend. 

This story of your country atid your clan. 

In your loved house, your too much honoured guest, 

I made in English. Take it, being done ; 

And let me sign it with tlie ftame you gave. 

Teriitera. 



THE SONG OF RAHERO: 

A LEGEND OF TAHITI 

I. THE SLAYING OF TAMATEA 

IT fell in the days of old, as the men of Taiarapu 
tell, 

A youth went forth to the fishing, and fortune fa- 
voured him well. 

Tamatea his name: gullible, simple, and kind, 

Comely of countenance, nimble of body, empty of 
mind, 

His mother ruled him and loved him beyond the wont 
of a wife. 

Serving the lad for eyes and living herself in his life. 

Alone from the sea and the fishing came Tamatea the 
fair. 

Urging his boat to the beach, and the mother awaited 
him there, 

— '' Long may you live ! " said she. " Your fishing 
has sped to a wish. 

And now let us choose for the king the fairest of all lo 
your fish. 

For fear inhabits the palace and grudging grows in 
the land, 

Marked is the sluggardly foot and marked the nig- 
gardly hand, 



232 BALLADS 

The hours and the miles are counted, the tributes 

numbered and weighed, 
And woe to him that comes short, and woe to him that 

delayed ! " 
So spoke on the beach the mother, and counselled the 

wiser thing. 
For Rahero stirred in the country and secretly mined 

the king. 
Nor were the signals wanting of how the leaven 

wrought. 
In the cords of obedience loosed and the tributes 

grudgingly brought. 
And when last to the temple of Oro the boat with the 

victim sped, 
20 And the priest uncovered the basket and looked on the 

face of the dead, 
Trembling fell upon all at sight of an ominous thin^, 
For there was the aito ^ dead, and he of the house of 

the king. 

So spake on the beach the mother, matter worthy of 

note, 
And wattled a basket well, and chose a fish from the 

boat; 
And Tamatea the pliable shouldered the basket and 

went, 
And travelled, and sang as he travelled, a lad that was 

well content. 
Still the way of his going was round by the roaring 

coast. 
Where the ring of the reef is broke and the trades run 

riot the most. 
On his left, with smoke as of battle, the billows bat- 
tered the land ; 
30 Unscalable, turretted mountains rose on the inner 

hand. 



THE SONG OF RAHERO 233 

And cape, and village, and river, and vale, and moun- 
tain above, 
Each had a name in the land for men to remember and 

love; 
And never the name of a place, but lo ! a song in its 

praise : 
Ancient and unforgotten, songs of the earlier days, 
That the elders taught to the young, and at night, in 

the full of the moon, 
Garlanded boys and maidens sang together in tune. 
Tamatea the placable went with a lingering foot ; 
He sang as loud as a bird, he whistled hoarse as a 

flute; 
He broiled in the sun, he breathed in the grateful 

shadow of trees, 
In the icy stream of the rivers he waded over the 40 

knees ; 
And still in his empty mind crowded, a thousand-fold, 
The deeds of the strong and the songs of the cunning 

heroes of old. 

And now was he come to a place Taiarapu honoured 

the most, 
Where a silent valley of woods debouched on the 

noisy coast. 
Spewing a level river. There was a haunt of Pai.^ 
There, in his potent youth, when his parents drove 

him to die, 
Honoura lived like a beast, lacking the lamp and the 

fire. 
Washed by the rains of the trade and clotting his hair 

in the mire ; 
And there, so mighty his hands, he bent the tree to his 

foot — 
So keen the spur of his hunger, he plucked it naked 50 

of fruit. 



234 BALLADS 

There, as she pondered the clouds for the shadow of 

coming ills, 
Ahupu, the woman of song, walked on high on the 

hills. 

Of these was Rahero sprung, a man of a godly race ; 
And inherited cunning of spirit and beauty of body 

and face. 
Of yore in his youth, as an aito, Rahero wandered the 

land, 
Delighting maids with his tongue, smiting men with 

his hand. 
Famous he was in his youth ; but before the midst of 

his life 
Paused, and fashioned a song of farewell to glory and 

strife. 

House of mine {it zvent), house upon the sea, 
60 Belov'd of all my fathers, more helov'd by me! 
Vale of the strong Honoura, deep ravine of Pai, 
Again in your woody summits I hear the trade-zuind 
cry. 

House of mine, in your walls, strong sounds the sea. 

Of all sounds on earth, dearest sound to me. 

I have heard the applause of men, I have heard it arise 

and die: 
Sweeter now in my house I hear the trade-wind cry. 

These were the words of his singing, other the thought 

of his heart ; 
For secret desire of glory vexed him, dwelling apart. 
Lazy and crafty he was, and loved to lie in the sun, 
70 And loved the cackle of talk and the true word uttered 

in fun ; 



THE SONG OF RAHERO 235 

Lazy he was, his roof was ragged, his table was lean, 
And the fish swam safe in his sea, and he gathered the 

near and the green. 
He sat in his house and laughed, but he loathed the 

king of the land, 
And he uttered the grudging word under the covering 

hand. 
Treason spread from his door; and he looked for a 

day to come, 
A day of the crowding people, a day of the summon- 
ing drum, 
When the vote should be taken, the king be driven 

forth in disgrace, 
And Rahero, the laughing and lazy, sit and rule in his 

place. 
Here Tamatea came, and beheld the house on the 

brook ; 
And Rahero was there by the way and covered an 80 

oven to cook.^ 
Naked he was to the loins, but the tattoo covered the 

lack, 
And the sun and the shadow of palms dappled his 

muscular back. 
Swiftly he lifted his head at the fall of the coming feet, 
And the water sprang in his mouth with a sudden 

desire of meat ; 
For he marked the basket carried, covered from flies 

and the sun ; * 
And Rahero buried his fire, but the meat in his house 

was done. 

Forth he stepped; and took, and delayed the boy, by 

the hand ; 
And vaunted the joys of meat and the ancient ways of 

the land : 



236 BALLADS 

— '' Our sires of old in Taiarapu, they that created 

the. race, 
90 Ate ever with eager hand, nor regarded season or 

place, 
Ate in the boat at the oar, on the way afoot ; and at 

night 
Arose in the midst of dreams to rummage the house 

for a bite. 
It is good for the youth in his turn to follow the way 

of the sire ; 
And behold how fitting the time ! for here do I cover 

my fire." 
— " I see the fire for the cooking but never the meat 

to cook," 
Said Tamatea. — '* Tut ! " said Rahero. " Here in 

the brook 
And there in the tumbling sea, the fishes are thick as 

flies, 
Hungry like healthy men, and like pigs for savour and 

size: 
Crayfish crowding the river, sea-fish thronging the 

sea." 
100 — " Well it may be," says the other, *' and yet be 

nothing to me. 
Fain would I eat, but alas ! I have needful matter in 

hand. 
Since I carry my tribute of fish to the jealous king of 

the land." 
Now at the word a light sprang in Rahero's eyes. 
" I will gain me a dinner," thought he, " and lend the 

king a surprise." 
And he took the lad by the arm, as they stood by the 

side of the track, 
And smiled, and rallied, and flattered, and pushed him 

forward and back. 



THE SONG OF RAHERO 237 

It was " You that sing like a bird, I never have heard 

you sing," 
And " The lads when I was a lad were none so feared 

of a king. 
And of what account is an hour, when the heart is 

empty of guile ? 
But come, and sit in the house and laugh with the no 

women awhile ; 
And I will but drop my hook, and behold ! the dinner 

made." 

So Tamatea the pliable hung up his fish in the shade 

On a tree by the side of the way ; and Rahero carried 
him in. 

Smiling as smiles the fowler when flutters the bird to 
the gin, 

And chose him a shining hook,^ and viewed it with 
sedulous eye, 

And breathed and burnished it well on the brawn of 
his naked thigh. 

And set a mat for the gull, and bade him be merry and 
bide. 

Like a man concerned for his guest, and the fishing, 
and nothing beside. 

Now when Rahero was forth, he paused and heark- 
ened, and heard 

The gull jest in the house and the women laugh at his 120 
word ; 

And stealthily crossed to the side of the way, to the 
shady place 

Where the basket hung on a mango ; and craft trans- 
figured his face. 

Deftly he opened the basket, and took of the fat of the 
fish. 

The cut of kings and chieftains, enough for a goodly 
dish. 



238 BALLADS 

This he wrapped in a leaf, set on the fire to cook 
And buried ; and next the marred remains of the 

tribute he took, 
And doubled and packed them well, and covered the 

basket close 
— '' There is a buffet, my king," quoth he, " and a 

nauseous dose ! " — 
And hung the basket again in the shade, in a cloud of 

flies 
130 — " And there is a sauce to your dinner, king of the 

crafty eyes ! " 

Soon as the oven was open, the fish smelt excellent 

good. 
In the shade, by the house of Rahero, down they sat 

to their food. 
And cleared the leaves ^ in silence, or uttered a jest 

and laughed. 
And raising the cocoanut bowls, buried their faces 

and quaffed. 
But chiefly in silence they ate; and soon as the meal 

was done, 
Rahero feigned to remember and measured the hour 

by the sun, 
And '* Tamatea," quoth he, " it is time to be jogging, 

my lad." 

So Tamatea arose, doing ever the thing he was bade, 
And carelessly shouldered the basket, and kindly 

saluted his host; 
140 xA-ud again the way of his going was round by the 

roaring coast. 
Long he went ; and at length was aware of a pleasant 

green, 
And the stems and shadows of palms, and roofs of 

lodges between. 



THE SONG OF RAHERO 239 

There sate, in the door of his palace, the king on a 

kingly seat, 
And aitos stood armed around, and the yottowas ^ sat 

at his feet. 
But fear was a worm in his heart: fear darted his 

eyes; 
And he probed men's faces for treasons and pondered 

their speech for lies. 
To him came Tamatea, the basket slung in his hand, 
And paid him the due obeisance standing as vassals 

stand. 
In silence hearkened the king, and closed the eyes in 

his face, 
Harbouring odious thoughts and the baseless fears of 150 

the base ; 
In silence accepted the gift and sent the giver away. 
So Tamatea departed, turning his back on the day. 
And lo! as the king sat brooding, a rumour rose in 

the crowd; 
The yottowas nudged and whispered, the commons 

murmured aloud ; 
Tittering fell upon all at sight of the impudent thing. 
At the sight of a gift unroyal flung in the face of a 

king. 
And the face of the king turned white and red with 

anger and shame 
In their midst; and the heart in his body was water 

and then was flame ; 
Till of a sudden, turning, he gripped an aito hard, 
A youth that stood with his omare,^ one of the daily 160 

guard, 
And spat in his ear a command, and pointed and ut- 
tered a name. 
And hid in the shade of the house his impotent anger 

and shame. 



240 BALLADS 

Now Tamatea the fool was far on the homeward way, 
The rising night in his face, behind him the dying 

day. 
Rahero saw him go by, and the heart of Rahero was 

glad, 
Devising shame to the king and nowise harm to the 

lad; 
And all that dwelt by the way saw and saluted him 

well, 
For he had the face of a friend and the news of the 

town to tell ; 
And pleased with the notice of folk, and pleased that 

his journey was done, 
170 Tamatea drew homeward, turning his back to the 

sun. 
And now was the hour of the bath in Taidrapu ; far 

and near 
The lovely laughter of bathers rose and delighted his 

ear. 
Night massed in the valleys ; the sun on the mountain 

coast 
Struck, end-long; and above the clouds embattled 

their host. 
And glowed and gloomed on the heights; and the 

heads of the palms were gems, 
And far to the rising eve extended the shade of their 

stems ; 
And the shadow of Tamatea hovered already at home. 

And sudden the sound of one coming and running 

light as the foam 
Struck on his ear ; and he turned, and lo ! a man on 
his track, 
180 Girded and armed with an omare, following hard at 
his back. 



THE SONG OF RAHERO 241 

At a bound the man was upon him ; — and, or ever a 

word was said, 
The loaded end of the omare fell and laid him dead. 



II. THE VENGING OF TAMATEA 

Thus was Rahero's treason ; thus and no further it 

sped: 
The king sat safe in his place and a kindly fool was 

dead. 

But the mother of Tamatea arose with death in her 
eyes. 

All night long, and the next, Taiarapu rang with her 
cries. 

As when a babe in the wood turns with a chill of doubt 

And perceives nor home, nor friends, for the trees 
have closed her about, 

The mountain rings and her breast is torn with the 
voice of despair : 

So the lion-like woman idly wearied the air 190 

For awhile, and pierced men's hearing in vain, and 
wounded their hearts. 

But as when the weather changes at sea, in dangerous 
parts, 

And sudden the hurricane wrack unrolls up the front 
of the sky, 

At once the ship lies idle, the sails hang silent on high. 

The breath of the wind that blew is blown out like the 
flame of a lamp, 

And the silent armies of death draw near with in- 
audible tramp: 

So sudden, the voice of her weeping ceased; in si- 
lence she rose 

16 



242 BALLADS 

And passed from the house of her sorrow, a woman 

clothed with repose, 
Carrying death in her breast and sharpening death 

with her hand. 

200 Hither she went and thither in all the coasts of the 

land. 
They tell that she feared not to slumber alone, in the 

dead of night. 
In accursed places ; beheld, unblenched, the ribbon of 

light » 
Spin from temple to temple ; guided the perilous skiff, 
Abhorred not the paths of the mountain and trod the 

verge of the cliff ; 
From end to end of the island, thought not the dis- 
tance long. 
But forth from king to king carried the tale of her 

wrong. 
To king after king, as they sat in the palace door, she 

came. 
Claiming kinship, declaiming verses, naming her name 
And the names of all of her fathers ; and still, with a 

heart on the rack, 
200 Jested to capture a hearing and laughed when they 

jested back: 
So would deceive them awhile, and change and return 

in a breath, 
And on all the men of Vaiau imprecate instant death ; 
And tempt her kings — for Vaiau was a rich and 

prosperous land. 
And flatter — for who would attempt it but warriors 

mighty of hand? 
And change in a breath again and rise in a strain of 

song, 
Invoking the beaten drums, beholding the fall of the 

strong, 



THE SONG OF RAHERO 243 

Calling the fowls of the air to come and feast on the 

dead. 
And they held the chin in silence, and heard her, and 

shook the head ; 
For they knew the men of Taiarapu famous in battle 

and feast, 
Marvellous eaters and smiters : the men of Vaiau not 220 

least. 

To the land of the Namunu-ura,^^ to Paea, at length 

she came. 
To men who were foes to the Tevas and hated their 

race and name. 
There was she well received, and spoke with Hiopa 

the king.^^ 
And Hiopa listened, and weighed, and wisely consid- 
ered the thing. 
'' Here in the back of the isle we dwell in a sheltered 

place," 
Quoth he to the woman, " in quiet, a weak and peace- 
able race. 
But far in the teeth of the wind lofty Taiarapu lies ; 
Strong blows the wind of the trade on its seaward 

face, and cries 
Aloud in the top of arduous mountains, and utters its 

song 
In green continuous forests. Strong is the wind, and 230 

strong 
And fruitful and hardy the race, famous in battle and 

feast, 
Marvellous eaters and smiters : the men of Vaiau not 

least. 
Now hearken to me, my daughter, and hear a word of 

the wise : 
How a strength goes linked with a weakness, two by 

two, like the eyes. 



244 BALLADS 

They can wield the omare well and cast the javelin 

far; 
Yet are they greedy and weak as the swine and the 

children are. 
Plant we, then, here at Paea, a garden of excellent 

fruits ; 
Plant we bananas and kava and taro, the king of 

roots ; 
Let the pigs in Paea be tapu ^^ and no man fish for a 

year; 
240 And of all the meat in Tahiti gather we threefold 

here. 
So shall the fame of our plenty fill the island, and so, 
At last, on the tongue of rumor, go where we wish it 

to go. 
Then shall the pigs of Taiarapu raise their snouts in 

the air; 
But we sit quiet and wait, as the fowler sits by the 

snare, 
And tranquilly fold our hands, till the pigs come nos- 
ing the food : 
But meanwhile build us a house of Trotea, the stub- 
born wood, 
Bind it with incombustible thongs, set a roof to the 

room, 
Too strong for the hands of a man to dissever or fire 

to consume ; 
And there, when the pigs come trotting, there shall 

the feast be spread, 
250 There shall the eye of the morn enlighten the feasters 

dead. 
So be it done; for I have a heart that pities your 

state. 
And Nateva and Namunu-ura are fire and water for 

hate." 



THE SONG OF RAHERO 245 

All was done as he said, and the gardens prospered ; 

and now 
The fame of their plenty went out, and word of it 

came to Vaiau. 
For the men of Namunu-ura sailed, to the windward 

far, 
Lay in the offing by south where the towns of the 

Tevas are, 
And cast overboard of their plenty; and lo! at the 

Tevas' feet 
The surf on all of the beaches tumbled treasures of 

meat. 
In the salt of the sea, a harvest tossed with the reflu- 
ent foam ; 
And the children gleaned it in playing, and ate and 260 

carried it home ; 
And the elders stared and debated, and wondered and 

passed the jest. 
But whenever a guest came by eagerly questioned the 

guest ; 
And little by little, from one to another, the word went 

round : 
*' In all the borders of Paea the victual rots on the 

ground. 
And swine are plenty as rats. And now, when they 

fare to the sea, 
The men of the Namunu-ura glean from under the 

tree 
And load the canoe to the gunwale with all that is 

toothsome to eat ; 
And all day long on the sea the jaws are crushing the 

meat. 
The steersman eats at the helm, the rowers munch at 

the oar. 
And at length, when their bellies are full, overboard 270 

with the store ! " 



246 BALLADS 

Now was the word made true, and soon as the bait 

was bare, 
All the pigs of Taiarapu raised their snouts in the 

air. 
Songs were recited, and kinship was counted, and 

tales were told 
How war had severed of late but peace had cemented 

of old 
The clans of the island. " To war," said they, " now 

set we an end, 
And hie to the Namunu-ura even as a friend to a 

friend." 

So judged, and a day was named ; and soon as the 
morning broke. 

Canoes were thrust in the sea and the houses emptied 
of folk. 

Strong blew the wind of the south, the wind that 
gathers the clan ; 
280 Along all the line of the reef the clamorous surges 
ran ; 

And the clouds were piled on the top of the island 
mountain-high, 

A mountain throned on a mountain. The fleet of 
canoes swept by 

In the midst, on the green lagoon, with a crew re- 
leased from care. 

Sailing an even water, breathing a summer air, 

Cheered by a cloudless sun; and ever to left and 
right, 

Bursting surge on the reef, drenching storms on the 
height. 

So the folk of Vaiau sailed and were glad all day, 

Coasting the palm-tree cape and crossing the popu- 
lous bay 



THE SONG OF RAHERO 247 

By all the towns of the Tevas ; and still as they 

bowled along, 
Boat would answer to boat with jest and laughter and 290 

song, 
And the people of all the towns trooped to the sides of 

the sea 
And gazed from under the hand or sprang aloft on 

the tree, 
Hailing and cheering. Time failed them for more to 

do; 
The holiday village careened to the wind, and was 

gone from view 
Swift as a passing bird ; and ever as onward it bore, 
Like the cry of the passing bird, bequeathed its song 

to the shore — 
Desirable laughter of maids and the cry of delight of 

the child. 
And the gazer, left behind, stared at the wake and 

smiled. 

By all the towns of the Tevas they went, and Papara 

last. 
The home of the chief, the place of muster in war ; 300 

and passed 
The march of the lands of the clan, to the lands of an 

alien folk. 
And there, from the dusk of the shoreside palms, a 

column of smoke 
Mounted and wavered and died in the gold of the 

setting sun, 
" Paea! " they cried. " It is Paea." And so was the 

voyage done. 

In the early fall of the night, Hiopa came to the shore. 
And beheld and counted the comers, and lo, they were 
fortv score : 



248 BALLADS 

The pelting feet of the babes that ran already and 
played, 

The clean-lipped smile of the boy, the slender breasts 
of the maid, 

And mighty limbs of women, stalwart mothers of 
men. 
310 The sires stood forth unabashed; but a little back 
from his ken 

Clustered the scarcely nubile, the lads and maids, in 
a ring. 

Fain of each other, afraid of themselves, aware of the 
king 

And aping behaviour, but clinging together with 
hands and eyes, 

With looks that were kind like kisses, and laughter 
tender as sighs. 

There, too, the grandsire stood, raising his silver crest. 

And the impotent hands of a suckling groped in his 
barren breast. 

The childhood of love, the pair well married, the in- 
nocent brood. 

The tale of the generations repeated and ever re- 
newed — 

Hiopa beheld them together, all the ages of man, 
320 And a moment shook in his purpose. 

But these were the foes of his clan. 
And he trod upon pity, and came, and civilly greeted 

the king. 
And gravely entreated Rahero ; and for all that could 

fight or sing, 
And claimed a name in the land, had fitting phrases 

of praise ; 
But with all who were well-descended he spoke of the 

ancient days. 



THE SONG OF RAHERO 249 

And " T is true," said he, " that in Paea the victual 

rots on the ground ; 
But, friends, your number is many ; and pigs must be 

hunted and found, 
And the lads troop to the mountains to bring the feis 

down. 
And around the bowls of the kava cluster the maids 

of the town. 
So, for to-night, sleep here ; but king, common, and 330 

priest 
To-morrow, in order due, shall sit with me in the 

feast." 
Sleepless the live-long night, Hiopa's followers toiled. 
The pigs screamed and were slaughtered ; the spars 

of the guest-house oiled, 
The leaves spread on the floor. In many a mountain 

glen 
The moon drew shadows of trees on the naked bodies 

of men 
Plucking and bearing fruits ; and in all the bounds 

of the town 
Red glowed the cocoanut fires, and were buried and 

trodden down. 
Thus did seven of the yottowas toil with their tale of 

the clan, 
But the eighth wrought with his lads, hid from the 

sight of man. 
In the deeps of the woods they laboured, piling the 340 

fuel high 
In fagots, the load of a man, fuel seasoned and dry. 
Thirsty to seize upon fire and apt to blurt into 

flame. 

And now was the day of the feast. The forests, as 
mornins: came, 



250 BALLADS 

Tossed in the wind, and the peaks quaked in the blaze 

of the day 
And the cocoanuts showered on the ground, rebound- 
ing and rolHng away : 
A glorious morn for a feast, a famous wind for a 

fire. 
To the hall of feasting Hiopa led them, mother and 

sire 
And maid and babe in a tale, the whole of the holiday 

throng. 
Smiling they came, garlanded green, not dreaming of 

wrong ; 
350 And for every three, a pig, tenderly cooked in the 

ground. 
Waited ; and fei, the staff of life, heaped in a mound 
For each where he sat ; — for each, bananas roasted 

and raw 
Piled with a bountiful hand, as for horses hay and 

straw 
Are stacked in a stable ; and fish, the food of desire,^^ 
And plentiful vessels of sauce, and breadfruit gilt in 

the fire ; — 
And kava was common as water. Feasts have there 

been ere now. 
And many, but never a feast like that of the folk of 

Vaiau. 

All day long they ate with the resolute greed of 

brutes, 
And turned from the pigs to the fish, and again from 

the fish to the fruits, 
360 And emptied the vessels of sauce, and drank of the 

kava deep ; 
Till the young lay stupid as stones, and the strongest 

nodded to sleep. 



THE SONG OF RAHERO 251 

Sleep that was mighty as death and bHnd as a moon- 
less night 

Tethered them hand and foot ; and their souls were 
drowned, and the light 

Was cloaked from their eyes. Senseless together, the 
old and the young. 

The fighter deadly to smite and the prater cunning of 
tongue, 

The woman wedded and fruitful, inured to the pangs 
of birth. 

And the maid that knew not of kisses, blindly 
sprawled on the earth. 

From the hall Hiopa the king and his chiefs came 

stealthily forth. 
Already the sun hung low and enlightened the peaks 

of the north ; 
But the wind was stubborn to die and blew as it blows 370 

at morn, 
Showering the nuts in the dusk, and e'en as a banner 

is torn, 
High on the peaks of the island, shattered the moun- 
tain cloud. 
And now at once, at a signal, a silent, emulous crowd 
Set hands to the work of death, hurrying to and fro, 
Like ants, to furnish the fagots, building them broad 

and low. 
And piling them high and higher around the walls 

of the hall. 
Silence persisted within, for sleep lay heavy on all. 
But the mother of Tamatea stood at Hiopa's side, 
And shook for terror and joy like a girl that is a 

bride. 
Night fell on the toilers, and first Hiopa the wise 380 
Made the round of the house, visiting all with his eyes ; 



252 BALLADS 

And all was piled to the eaves, and fuel blockaded the 

door; 
And within, in the house beleaguered, slumbered the 

forty score. 
Then was an aito dispatched and came with fire in his 

hand, 
And Hiopa took it. — " Within," said he, " is the life 

of a land ; 
And behold ! I breathe on the coal, I breathe on the 

dales of the east, 
And silence falls on forest and shore ; the voice of the 

feast 
Is quenched, and the smoke of cooking; the rooftree 

decays and falls 
On the empty lodge, and the winds subvert deserted 

walls." 

390 Therewithal, to the fuel, he laid the glowing coal ; 
And the redness ran in the mass and burrowed within 

like a mole. 
And copious smoke was conceived. But, as when a 

dam is to burst. 
The water lips it and crosses in silver trickles at first, 
And then, of a sudden, whelms and bears it away 

forthright : 
So now, in a moment, the flame sprang and towered 

in the night. 
And wrestled and roared in the wind, and high over 

house and tree. 
Stood, like a streaming torch, enlightening land and 

sea. 

But the mother of Tamatea threw her arms abroad, 
*' Pyre of my son," she shouted, '' debited vengeance 
of God. 



THE SONG OF RAHERO 1^3 

Late, late, I behold you, yet I behold you at last, 400 

And glory, beholding! For now are the days of my 

agony past, 
The lust that famished my soul now eats and drinks 

its desire, 
And they that encompassed my son shrivel alive in 

the fire. 
Tenfold precious the vengeance that comes after lin- 
gering years ! 
Ye quenched the voice of my singer ? — hark, in your 

dying ears. 
The song of the conflagration ! Ye left me a widow 

alone ? 
— Behold, the whole of your race consumes, sinew 

and bone 
And torturing flesh together : man, mother, and maid 
Heaped in a common shambles ; and already, borne 

by the trade. 
The smoke of vour dissolution darkens the stars of 41c 

night." 

Thus she spoke, and her stature grew in the people's 
sight. 

III. RAHERO 

Rahero was there in the hall asleep : beside him his 

wife, 
Comely, a mirthful woman, one that dehghted in life ; 
And a girl that was ripe for marriage, shy and sly as 

a mouse; 
And a boy, a cUmber of trees: all the hopes of his 

house. 
Unwary, with open hands, he slept in the midst of his 

folk, 



254 BALLADS 

And dreamed that he heard a voice crying without, 

and awoke, 
Leaping bUndly afoot Hke one from a dream that he 

fears. 
A helHsh glow and . clouds were about him ; — it 

roared in his ears 
420 Like the sound of the cataract fall that plunges sudden 

and steep ; 
And Rahero swayed as he stood, and his reason was 

still asleep. 
Now the flame struck hard on the house, wind- 

wieldea, a fracturing blow, 
And the end of the roof was burst and fell on the 

sleepers below ; 
And the lofty hall, and the feast, and the prostrate 

bodies of folk, 
Shone red in his eyes a moment, and then were swal- 
lowed of smoke. 
In the mind of Rahero clearness came ; and he opened 

his throat ; 
And as when a squall comes sudden, the straining 

sail of a boat 
Thunders aloud and bursts, so thundered the voice 

of the man. 
— '' The wind and the rain ! " he shouted, the muster- 
ing word of the clan,^* 
430 And '' up ! " and " to arms, men of Vaiau ! " But 

silence replied. 
Or only the voice of the gusts of the fire, and nothing 

beside. 

Rahero stooped and groped. He handled his woman- 
kind. 

But the fumes of the fire and the kava had quenched 
the life of their mind, 



THE SONG OF RAHERO 2 



S5 



And they lay like pillars prone ; and his hand encoun- 
tered the boy, 

And there sprang in the gloom of his soul a sudden 
lightning of joy. 

*' Him can I save ! " he thought, " if I were speedy 
enough." 

And he loosened the cloth from his loins, and swad- 
dled the child in the stuff; 

And about the strength of his neck he knotted the 
burden well. 



There where the roof had fallen, it roared like the 

,mouth of hell. 
Thither Rahero went, stumbling on senseless folk, 440 
And grappled a post of the house, and began to climb 

in the smoke: 
The last alive of Vaiau : and the son borne by the 

sire. 
The post glowed in the grain with ulcers of eating 

fire. 
And the fire bit to the blood and mangled his hands 

and thighs ; 
And the fumes sang in his head like wine and stung 

in his eyes ; 
And still he climbed, and came to the top, the place of 

proof, 
And thrust a hand through the flame, and clambered 

alive on the roof. 
But even as he did so, the wind, in a garment of 

flames and pain. 
Wrapped him from head to heel ; and the waistcloth 

parted in twain ; 
And the living fruit of his loins dropped in the fire 450 
below. 



iSS BALLADS 

About the blazing feast-house clustered the eyes of 

the foe, 
Watching, hand upon weapon, lest ever a soul should 

flee, 
Shading the brow from the glare, straining the neck 

to see. 
Only, to leeward, the flames in the wind swept far 

and wide, 
And the forest sputtered on fire ; and there might no 

man abide. 
Thither Rahero crept, and dropped from the burning 

eaves. 
And crouching low to the ground, in a treble covert 

of leaves 
And fire and volleying smoke, ran for the life of his 

soul 
Unseen ; and behind him under a furnace of ardent 

coal, 
460 Cairned with a wonder of flame, and blotting the 

night with smoke. 
Blazed and were smelted together the bones of all his 

folk. 

He fled unguided at first; but hearing the breakers 
roar. 

Thitherward shaped his way, and came at length to 
the shore. 

Sound-limbed he was : dry-eyed ; but smarted in 
every part; 

And the mighty cage of his ribs lieaved on his strain- 
ing heart 

With sorrow and rage. And '' Fools ! " he cried, 
" fools of Vaiau, 

Heads of swine — gluttons — Alas ! and where are 
they now? 



THE SONG OF RAHERO 257 

Those that I played with, those that nursed me, those 

that I nursed? 
God, and I outHving them! I, the least and the 

worst — 
I, that thought myself crafty, snared by this herd of 470 

swine, 
In the tortures of hell and desolate, stripped of all 

that was mine : 
All ! — my friends and my fathers — the silver heads 

of yore 
That trooped to the council, the children that ran to 

the open door 
Crying with innocent voices and clasping a father's 

knees ! 
And mine, my wife — my daughter — my sturdy 

climber of trees, 
Ah, never to climb again ! " 

Thus in the dusk of the night, 
(For clouds rolled in the sky and the moon was swal- 
lowed from sight,) 
Pacing and gnawing his fists, Raliero raged by the 

shore. 
Vengeance : that must be his. But much w^as to do 480 

before ; 
And first a single life to be snatched from a deadly 

place, 
A life, the root of revenge, surviving plant of the race : 
And next the race to be raised anew, and the lands of 

the clan 
Repeopled. So Rahero designed, a prudent man 
Even in wrath, and turned for the means of revenge 

and escape : 
A boat to be seized by stealth, a wife to be taken by 

rape. 

17 



258 BALLADS 

Still was the dark lagoon ; beyond on the coral wall, 
He saw the breakers shine, he heard them bellow and 

fall. 
Alone, on the top of the reef, a man with a flaming 

brand 
490 Walked, gazing and pausing, a fish-spear poised in his 

hand. 
The foam boiled to his calf when the mightier 

breakers came, 
And the torch shed in the wind scattering tufts of 

flame. 
Afar on the dark lagoon a canoe lay idly at wait : 
A figure dimly guiding it : surely the fisherman'^ 

mate. 
Rahero saw and he smiled. He straightened his 

mighty thews: 
Naked, with never a weapon, and covered with scorch 

and bruise. 
He straightened his arms, he filled the void of his 

body with breath, 
And, strong as the wind in his manhood, doomed the 

fisher to death. 

Silent he entered the water, and silently swam, and 

came 
500 There where the fisher walked, holding on high the 

flame. 
Loud on the pier of the reef volleyed the breach of 

the sea ; 
And hard at the back of the man, Rahero crept to his 

knee 
On the coral, and suddenly sprang and seized him, 

the elder hand 
Clutching the joint of his throat, the other snatching 

the brand 



THE SONG OF RAHERO 259 

Ere it had time to fall, and holding it steady and high. 
Strong was the fisher, brave, and swift of mind and 

of eye — 
Strongly he threw in the clutch ; but Rahero resisted 

the strain, 
And jerked, and the spine of life snapped with a 

crack in twain, 
And the man came slack in his hands and tumbled a 

lump at his feet. 

One moment: and there, on the reef, where the 510 

breakers whitened and beat, 
Rahero was standing alone, glowing and scorched and 

bare, 
A victor unknown of any, raising the torch in the 

air. 
But once he drank of his breath, and instantly set 

him to fish 
Like a man intent upon supper at home and a savoury 

dish. 
For what should the woman have seen? A man with 

a torch — and then 
A moment's blur of the eyes — and a man with a 

torch again. 
And the torch had scarcely been shaken. " Ah, 

surely," Rahero said, 
" She will deem it a trick of the eyes, a fancy born in 

the head ; 
But time must be given the fool to nourish a fool's 

belief." 
So for a while, a sedulous fisher, he walked the reef, 520 
Pausing at times and gazing, striking at times with 

the spear: 
— Lastly, uttered the call ; and even as the boat drew 

near. 



26o BALLADS 

Like a man that was done with its use, tossed the 

torch in the sea. 
Lightly he leaped on the boat beside the woman ; and 

she 
Lightly addressed him, and yielded the paddle and 

place to sit ; 
For now the torch was extinguished the night was 

black as the pit. 
Rahero set him to row, never a word he spoke, 
And the boat sang in the water urged by his vigorous 

stroke. 
— ''What ails you?" the woman asked, "and why 

did you drop the brand? 
530 We have onlv to kindle another as soon as we come to 

land." 
Never a word Rahero replied, but urged the canoe. 
And a chill fell on the woman. — ''Atta! speak! is 

it you? 
Speak! Why are you silent? Why do you bend 

aside? 
Wherefore steer to the seaward ? " thus she panted 

and cried. 
Never a word from the oarsman, toiling there in the 

dark; 
But right for a gate of the reef he silently headed the 

bark, 
And wielding the single paddle with passionate sweep 

on sweep, 
Drove her, the little fitted, forth on the open deep. 



And fear, there where she sat, froze the woman to 
stone : 
540 Not fear of the crazy boat and the weltering deep 
alone ; 



THE SONG OF RAHERO 261 

But a keener fear of the night, the dark, and the 

ghostly hour, 
And the thing that drove the canoe with more than a 

mortal's power 
And more than a mortal's boldness. For much she 

knew of the dead 
That haunt and fish upon reefs, toiling, like men, for 

bread. 
And trafiic with human fishers, or slay them and take 

their ware. 
Till the hour when the star of the dead ^^ goes down, 

and the morning air 
Blows, and the cocks are singing on shore. And 

surely she knew 
The speechless thing at her side belonged to the 

grave.^^ 

It blew 
All night from the south ; all night, Rahero contended 

and kept 
The prow to the cresting sea; and, silent as though 550 

she slept. 
The woman huddled and quaked. And now was the 

peep of day. 
High and long on their left the mountainous island 

lay; 
And over the peaks of Taiarapu arrows of sunlight 

struck. 
On shore the birds were beginning to sing: the 

ghostly ruck 
Of the buried had long ago returned to the covered 

grave ; 
And here on the sea, the woman waxing suddenly 

brave, 
Turned her swiftly about and looked in the face of 

the man. 



262 BALLADS 

And sure he was none that she knew, none of her 

country or clan : 
A stranger, mother-naked, and marred with the marks 

of fire, 
560 But comely and great of stature, a man to obey and 

admire. 

• And Rahero regarded her also, fixed, with a frown- 
ing face. 
Judging the woman's fitness to mother a warhke race. 
Broad of shoulder, ample of girdle, long in the thigh, 
Deep of bosom she was, and bravely supported his 
eye. 

" Woman," said he, '' last night the men of your 
folk — 

Man, woman, and maid, smothered my race in smoke. 

It was done like cowards ; and I, a mighty man of my 
hands. 

Escaped, a single life ; and now to the empty lands 

And smokeless hearths of my people, sail, with your- 
self, alone. 
570 Before your mother was born, the die of to-day was 
thrown 

And you selected : — your husband, vainly striving, 
to fall 

Broken between these hands : — yourself to be sev- 
ered from all, 

The places, the people, you love — home, kindred, 
and clan — 

And to dwell in a desert and bear the babes of a kin- 
less man." 



NOTES TO THE SONG OF RAHERO 

IxTRODUCTiON. — Tliis tale, of which I have not consciously 
changed a single feature, I received from tradition. It is highly 
popular through all the country of the eight Tevas, the clan to 
which Rahero belonged ; and particularly in Taiarapu, the wind- 
ward peninsula of Tahiti, where he lived. I have heard from end 
to end two versions ; and as many as five different persons have 
helped me with details. There seems no reason why tlie tale should 
not be true. 

Note I, verse 22. ** The aito," quasi champion, or brave. One 
skilled in the use of some weapon, who wandered the country chal- 
lenging distinguished rivals and taking part in local quarrels. It 
was in the natural course of his advancement to be at last employed 
by a chief, or king ; and it would then be a part of his duties to 
purvey the victim for sacrifice. One of the doomed families was 
indicated ; the aito took his weapon and went forth alone ; a little 
behind him bearers followed with the sacrificial basket. Sometimes 
the victim showed fight, sometimes prevailed ; more often, without 
doubt, he fell. Ikit whatever body was found, the bearers indiffer- 
ently took up. 

Note 2, verses 45, et seq. " Pai,^' " ffotwicra" and "Ahup7i.'" 
Legendary persons of Tahiti, all natives of Taiarapu. Of the two 
first, I have collected singular although imperfect legends, which I 
hope soon to lay before the public in another place. Of Ahupu, 
except in snatches of song, little memory appears to linger. She 
dwelt at least about Tepari, — "the sea-cliffs," — the eastern fast- 
ness of the isle ; walked by paths known only to herself upon the 
mountains; was courted by dangerous suitors who came swimming 
from adjacent islands, and defended and rescued (as I gather) by 
the lovaltv of native fish. My anxiety to learn more of "Ahupu 
Vehine " became (during my stay in Taiarapu) a cause of some 
diversion to that mirthful people, the inhabitants. 

Note 3, verse 80. " Coziered an ove/i." The cooking fire is made 
in a hole in the ground, and is then buried. 

Note 4, verse 85. "Flies." This is perhaps an anachronism. 
Even speaking of to-day in Tahiti, the phrase would have to be 



264 



BALLADS 



understood as referring mainly to mosquitoes, and these only in 
watered valleys with close woods, such as I suppose to form the 
surroundings of Rahero's homesteads Quarter of a mile away, 
where the air moves freely, you shall look in vain for one. 

Note 5, verse 115. ''Hook" of mother-of-pearl. Bright-hook 
fishing, and that with the spear, appear to the favourite native 
methods. 

Note 6, verse 133. " Leaves^^' the plates of Tahiti. 

Note 7, verse 144. " Yottowas,' so spelt for convenience of 
pronunciation, qimsi Tacksmen in the Scottish Highlands. The 
organisation of eight sub-districts and eight yottowas to a division 
which was in use (until yesterday) among the Tevas, I have at- 
tributed without authority to the next clan : see verses 341-2. 

Note 8, verse 160. " Omare," pronounce as a dactyl. A loaded 
quarter-staff, one of the two favourite weapons of the Tahitian 
brave : the javelin, or casting spear, was the other. 

Note 9, verse 202. " The ribbon of light." Still to be seen (and 
heard) spinning from one marae to another on Tahiti ; or so I have 
it upon evidence that would rejoice the Psychical Society. 

Note 10, verse 221. " Nd7nuim-uraP The complete name is 
Namunu-ura te aropa. Why it should be pronounced Namunu. 
dactyllically, I cannot see, but so I have always heard it. This 
was the clan immediately beyond the Tevas on the south coast of 
the island. At the date of the tale the clan organisation must have 
been very weak. There is no particular mention of Tamatea's 
mother going to Papara, to the head chief of her own clan, which 
would appear her natural recourse. On the other hand, she seems 
to have visited various lesser chiefs among the Tevas, and these to 
have excused themselves solely on the danger of the enterprise. 
The broad distinction here drawn between Nateva and Namunu-ura 
is therefore not impossibly anachronistic. 

Note II, verse 223. '' Hiopa the king^ Hiopa was really the 
name of the king (chief) of Vaiau ; but I could never learn that of 
the king of Paea — pronounce to rhyme with the Indian ayah — and 
I gave the name where it was most needed. This note must ap- 
pear otiose indeed to readers who have never heard of either of 
these two gentlemen ; and perhaps there is only one person in the 



THE SONG OF RAHERO 265 

world capable at once of reading my verses and spying the inac- 
curacy. For him, for Mr. Tati Salmon, hereditary high chief of the 
Tevas, the note is solely written : a small attention from a clans- 
man to his chief. 

Note 12, verse 239. " Let the pigs be tapu." It is impossible to 
explain tapu in a note ; we have it as an English word, taboo. 
Suffice it, that a thing which was tapu must not be touched, nor a 
place that was tapii visited. 

Note 13, verse 354. " Fish, the food of desire." There is a special 
word in the Tahitian language to signify hungering after fish. I may 
remark that here is one of my chief difficulties about the whole 
story. How did king, commons, women, and all come to eat 
tfigether at this feast .-• But it troubled none of my numerous 
authorities ; so there must certainly be some natural explanation. 

Note 14, verse 429. " The vnistering word of the clan" 

Teva te na, 
Teva te viatai ! 
Teva the wind, 
Teva the rain I 

Note 15, verse 546. Note 16, verse 548. " The star of the dead.'" 
Venus as a morning star. I have collected much curious evidence 
as to this belief. The dead retain their taste for a fish diet, enter 
into copartnery with living fishers, and haunt the reef and the 
lagoon. The conclusion attributed to the nameless lady of the 
legend would be reached to-day, under the like circumstances, by 
ninety per cent, of Polynesians; and here I probably understate 
by one-tenth. 



THE FEAST OF FAMINE 



THE FEAST OF FAMINE 



I 



MARQUESAN MANNERS 

I. THE priest's vigil 

N all the land of the tribe was neither fish nor fruit, 
And the deepest pit of popoi stood empty to the 

foot/ 
The clans upon the left and the clans upon the right 
Now oiled their carven maces and scoured their dag- 
gers bright ; 
They gat them to the thicket, to the deepest of the 

shade, 
And lay with sleepless eyes in the deadly ambuscade. 
And oft in the starry even the song of mourning rose, 
What time the oven smoked in the country of their 

foes ; 
For oft to loving hearts, and waiting ears and sight, 
The lads that went to forage returned not with the lO 

night. 
Now first the children sickened, and then the women 

paled, 
And the great arms of the warrior no more for war 

availed. 
Hushed was the deep drum, discarded was the dance ; 
And those that met the priest now glanced at him 

askance. 
The priest was a man of years, his eyes were ruby- 

red,2 
He neither feared the dark nor the terrors of the dead. 



270 BALLADS 

He knew the songs of races, the names of ancient 

date; 
And the beard upon his bosom would have bought 

the chief's estate. 
He dwelt in a high-built lodge, hard by the roaring 

shore, 
20 Raised on a noble terrace and with tikis ^ at the door. 
Within it was full of riches, for he served his i.ation 

well, 
And full of the sound of breakers, like the hollow of 

a shell. 
For weeks he let them perish, gave never a helping 

sign. 
But sat on his oiled platform to commune with the 

divine. 
But sat on his high terrace, with the tikis by his side, 
And stared on the blue ocean, like a parrot, ruby- 
eyed. 

Dawn as yellow as sulphur leaped on the mountain 

height : 
Out on the round of the sea the gems of the morning 

light. 
Up from the round of the sea the streamers of the 

sun ; — 
30 But down in the depths of the valley the day was not 

begun. 
In the blue of the woody twilight burned red the 

cocoa-husk, 
And the women and men of the clan went forth to 

bathe in the dusk. 
A word that began to go roimd, a word, a whisper, a 

start : 
Hope that leaped in the bosom, fear that knocked on 

the heart: 



THE FEAST OF FAMINE 271 

" See, the priest is not risen — look, for his door is 

fast! 
" He is going to name the victims ; he is going to 

help us at last." 

Thrice rose the sun to noon; and ever, like one of 

the dead, 
The priest lay still in his house with the roar of the 

sea in his head ; 
There was never a foot on the floor, there was never 

a v/hisper of speech ; 
Only the leering tikis stared on the blinding beach. 40 
Again were the mountains flred, again the morning 

broke ; 
And all the houses lay still, but the house of the priest 

awoke. 
Close in their covering roofs lay and trembled the 

clan, 
But the aged, red-eyed priest ran forth like a lunatic 

man ; 
And the village panted to see him in the jewels of 

death again, 
In the silver beards of the old and the hair of women 

slain. 
Frenzy shook in his limbs, frenzy shone in his eyes, 
And still and again as he ran, the valley rang with 

his cries. 
All day long in the land, by cliff and thicket and 

den, 
He ran his lunatic rounds, and howled for the flesh 50 

of men ; 
All day long he ate not, nor ever drank of the 

brook ; 
And all day long in their houses the people listened 

and shook — 



272 BALLADS 

All day long in their houses they listened with bated 

breath, 
And never a soul went forth, for the sight of the 

priest was death. 

Three were the days of his running, as the gods ap- 
pointed of yore, 
Two the nights of his sleeping alone in the place of 

gore : 
The drunken slumber of frenzy twice he drank to the 

lees, 
On the sacred stones of the High-place under the 

sacred trees ; 
With a lamp at his ashen head he lay in the place of 

the feast, 
60 And the sacred leaves of the banyan rustled around 

the priest. 
Last, when the stated even fell upon terrace and 

tree. 
And the shade of the lofty island lay leagues away to 

sea, 
And all the valleys of verdure were heavy with manna 

and musk. 
The wreck of the red-eyed priest came gasping home 

in the dusk. 
He reeled across the village, he staggered along the 

shore. 
And between the leering tikis crept groping through 

his door. 



There went a stir through the lodges, the voice of 
speech awoke ; 

Once more from the builded platforms arose the even- 
ing smoke. 



THE FEAST OF FAMINE 273 

And those who were mighty in war, and those re- 
nowned for an art 

Sat in their stated seats and talked of the morrow 70 
^part. 

il. THE LOVERS 

Hark ! away in the woods — for the ears of love are 

sharp — 
Stealthily, quietly touched, the note of the one- 
stringed harp.'* 
In the lighted house of her father, why should Taheia 

start ? 
Taheia heavy of hair, Taheia tender of heart, 
Taheia the well-descended, a bountiful dealer in love, 
Nimble of foot like the deer, and kind of eye like the 

dove? 
Sly and shy as a cat, with never a change of face, 
Taheia slips to the door, like one that would breathe 

a space; 
Saunters and pauses, and looks at the stars, and lists 

to the seas ; 
Then sudden and swift as a cat, she plunges under 80 

the trees. 
Swift as a cat she runs, with her garment gathered 

high, 
Leaping, nimble of foot, running, certain of eye ; 
And ever to guide her way over the smooth and the 

sharp. 
Ever nearer and nearer the note of the one-stringed 

harp ; 
Till at length, in a glade of the wood, with a naked 

mountain above, 
The sound of the harp thrown down, and she in the 

arms of her love. 



274 BALLADS 

** Rua," — " Taheia," they cry — " my heart, my soul, 

and my eyes," 
And clasp and sunder and kiss, with lovely laughter 

and sighs, 
" Rua ! " — '' Taheia, my love," — ** Rua, star of my 

night, 
90 Clasp me, hold me, and love me, single spring of 

delight." 

And Rua folded her close, he folded her near and 

long, 
The living knit to the living, and sang the lover's 

song : 

Night, night it is, night upon the palms. 
Night, night it is, the land wind has blown. 
Starry, starry night, over deep and height; 
Love, love in the valley, love all alone. 

" Taheia, heavy of hair, a foolish thing have we done. 

To bind what gods have sundered unkindly into one. 

Why should a lowly lover have touched Taheia's skirt, 

100 Taheia the well-descended, and Rua child of the 

dirt?" 

— " On high with the haka-ikis my father sits in 

state, 
Ten times fifty kinsmen salute him in the gate ; 
Round all his martial body, and in bands across his 

face, 
The marks of the tattooer proclaim his lofty place. 
I too, in the hands of the cunning, in the sacred cabin 

of palm,^ 
Have shrunk like the mimosa, and bleated like the 

lamb ; 



THE FEAST OF FAMINE 275 

Round half my tender body, that none shall clasp 

but you, 
For a crest and a fair adornment go dainty lines of 

blue. 
Love, love, beloved Rua, love levels all degrees. 
And the well-tattooed Taheia clings panting to your no 

knees." 

— " Taheia, song of the morning, how long is the 

longest love? 
A cry, a clasp of the hands, a star that falls from 

above ! 
Ever at morn in the blue, and at night when all is 

black, 
Ever it skulks and trembles with the hunter. Death, 

on its track. 
Hear me, Taheia, death ! For to-morrow the priest 

shall awake, 
And the names be named of the victims to bleed for 

the nation's sake; 
And first of the numbered many that shall be slain 

ere noon, 
Rua the child of the dirt, Rua the kinless loon. 
For him shall the drum be beat, for him be raised the 

song, 
For him to the sacred High-place the chaunting peo- 120 

pie throng. 
For him the oven smoke as for a speechless beast. 
And the sire of my Taheia come greedy to the 

feast." 
" Rua, be silent, spare me. Taheia closes her ears. 
Pity my yearning heart, pity my girlish years ! 
Flee from the cruel hands, flee from the knife and coal, 
Lie hid in the deeps of the woods, Rua, sire of my 

soul ! " 



276 BALLADS 



" Whither to flee, Taheia, whither in all of the land ? 
The fires of the bloody kitchen are kindled on every 

hand ; 
On every hand in the isle a hungry whetting of teeth, 
130 Eyes in the trees above, arms in the brush beneath. 
Patience to lie in wait, cunning to follow the sleuth, 
Abroad the foes I have fought, and at home the 

friends of my youth." 
" Love, love, beloved Rua, love has a clearer eye. 
Hence from the arms of love you go not forth to die. 
There, where the broken mountain drops sheer into 

the glen, 
There shall you find a hold from the boldest hunter 

of men ; 
There, in the deep recess, where the sun falls only at 

noon, 
And only once in the night enters the light of the 

moon. 
Nor ever a sound but of birds, or the rain when it 

falls with a shout ; 
140 For death and the fear of death beleaguer the valley 

about. 
Tapu it is, but the gods will surely pardon despair ; 
Tapu, but what of that? If Rua can only dare. 
Tapu and tapu and tapu, I know they are every one 

right; 
But the god of every tapu is not always quick to smite. 
Lie secret there, my Rua, in the arms of awful gods, 
Sleep in the shade of the trees on the couch of the 

kindly sods, 
Sleep and dream of Taheia, Taheia will wake for 

you; 
And whenever the land wind blows and the woods 

are heavy with dew. 



THE FEAST OF FAMINE 277 ' 

Alone throug;h the horror of night/' with food for the 

soul of her love, 
Taheia the undissuaded will hurry true as the dove." 150 
" Taheia, the pit of the night crawls with treacherous 

things, 
Spirits of ultimate air and the evil souls of things ; 
The souls of the dead, the stranglers, that perch in 

the trees of the wood. 
Waiters for all things human, haters of evil and good." 
'' Rua, behold me, kiss me, look in my eyes and read ; 
Are these the eyes of a maid that would leave her 

lover in need? 
Brave in the eye of day, my father ruled in the fight ; 
The child of his loins, Taheia, will play the man in 

the night." 

So it was spoken, and so agreed, and Taheia arose 

And smiled in the stars and was gone, swift as the 160 

swallow goes ; 
And Rua stood on the hill, and sighed, and followed 

her flight. 
And there were the lodges below, each with its door 

alight ; 
From folk that sat on the terrace and drew out the • 

even long 
Sudden crowings of laughter, monotonous drone of 

song; 
The quiet passage of souls over his head in the 

trees ; ^ 
And from all around the haven the crumbling thun- 
der of seas. 
" Farewell, my home," said Rua. '' Farewell, O quiet 

seat! 
To-morrow in all your valleys the drum of death 

shall beat." - 



ayS BALLADS 



III. THE FEAST 

Dawn as yellow as sulphur leaped on the naked peak, 
170 And all the village was stirring, for now was the 

priest to speak. 
Forth on his terrace he came, and sat with the chief 

in talk ; 
His lips were blackened with fever, his cheeks were 

whiter than chalk; 
Fever clutched at his hands, fever nodded his head, 
But, quiet and steady and cruel, his eyes shone ruby- 
fed. 
In the earliest rays of the sun the chief rose up 

content ; 
Braves were summoned, and drummers; messengers 

came and went ; 
Braves ran to their lodges, weapons were snatched 

from the wall ; 
The commons herded together, and fear was over 

them all. 
Festival dresses they wore, but the tongue was dry 

in their mouth, 
180 And the blinking eyes in their faces skirted from 

north to south. 

Now to the sacred enclosure gathered the greatest 
and least, 

And from under the shade of the Banyan arose the 
voice of the feast, 

The frenzied roll of the drum, and a swift, monoto- 
nous song. 

Higher the sun swam up; the trade wind level and 



THE FEAST OF FAMINE 279 

Awoke in the tops of the palms and rattled the fans 

aloud, 
And over the garlanded heads and shining robes of 

the crowd 
Tossed the spiders of shadow, scattered the jewels of 

sun. 
Forty the tale of the drums, and the forty throbbed 

like one; 
A thousand hearts in the crowd, and the even chorus 

of song. 
Swift as the feet of a runner, trampled a thousand 190 

strong. 
And the old men leered at the ovens and licked their 

lips for the food ; 
And the women stared at the lads, and laughed and 

looked to the wood. 
As when the sweltering baker, at night, when the city 

is dead, 
Alone in the trough of labour treads and fashions the 

bread ; 
So in the heat, and the reek, and the touch of woman 

and man, 
The naked spirit of evil kneaded the hearts of the clan. 

Now cold was at many a heart, and shaking in many 

a seat ; 
For there were the empty baskets, but who was to 

furnish the meat? 
For here was the nation assembled, and there were 

the ovens anigh. 
And out of a thousand singers nine were numbered 200 

to die. 
Till, of a sudden, a shock, a mace in the air, a yell, 
And, struck in the edge of the crowd, the first of the 

victims fell.^ 



28o BALLADS 

Terror and horrible glee divided the shrinking clan, 
Terror of what was to follow, glee for a diet of man. 
Frenzy hurried the chaunt, frenzy rattled the drums ; 
The nobles, high on the terrace, greedily mouthed 

their thumbs ; 
And once and again and again, in the ignorant crowd 

below, 
Once and again and again descended the murderous 

blow. 
Now smoked the oven, and now, with the cutting lip 

of a shell, 
210 A butcher of ninety winters jointed the bodies well. 
Unto the carven lodge, silent, in order due, 
The grandees of the nation one after one withdrew ; 
And a line of laden bearers brought to the terrace 

foot. 
On poles across their shoulders, the last reserve of 

fruit. 
The victims bled for the nobles in the old appointed 

way; 
The fruit was spread for the commons, for all should 

eat to-day. 

And now was the kava brewed, and now the cocoa 

ran. 
Now was the hour of the dance for child and woman 

and man; 
And mirth was in every heart, and a garland on every 

head, 
220 And all was well with the living and well with the 

eight who were dead. 
Only the chiefs and the priest talked and consulted 

awhile : 
" To-morrow,'' they said, and " To-morrow," and 

nodded and seemed to smile : 



THE FEAST OF FAMINE 281 

" Rua the child of dirt, the creature of common clay, 
Rua must die to-morrow, since Rua is gone to-day." 

Out of the groves of the valley, where clear the black- 
birds sang, 
Sheer from the trees of the valley the face of the 

mountain sprang; 
Sheer and bare it rose, unscalable barricade, 
Beaten and blown against by the generous draught of 

the trade. 
Dawn on its fluted brow painted rainbow light, 
Close on its pinnacled crown trembled the stars at 230 

night. 
Here and there in a cleft clustered contorted trees, 
Or the silver beard of a stream hung and swung in 

the breeze. 
High overhead, with a cry, the torrents leaped for the 

main. 
And silently sprinkled below in thin perennial rain. 
Dark in the staring noon, dark was Rua's ravine. 
Damp and cold was the air, and the face of the cliffs 

was green. 
Here, in the rocky pit, accursed already of old. 
On a stone in the midst of a river, Rua sat and was 

cold. 

" Valley of mid-day shadows, valley of silent falls," 
Rua sang, and his voice went hollow about the walls, 240 
" Valley of shadow and rock, a doleful prison to me. 
What is the life you can give to a child of the sun and 

the sea? " 
And Rua arose and came to the open mouth of the 

glen. 
Whence he beheld the woods, and the sea, and houses 

of men. 



282 BALLADS 

Wide blew the riotous trade, and smelt in his nostrils 

good; 
It bowed the boats on the bay, and tore and divided 

the wood; 
It smote and sundered the groves as Moses smote 

with the rod, 
And the streamers of all the trees blew like banners 

abroad ; 
And ever and on, in a lull, the trade wind brought 

him along 
250 A far-off patter of drums and a far-off whisper of 

song. 

Swift as the swallow's wings, the diligent hands on 

the drum 
Fluttered and hurried and throbbed. '' Ah, woe that 

I hear you come," 
Rua cried in his grief, " a sorrowful sound to me. 
Mounting far and faint from the resonant shore of 

the sea! 
Woe in the song! for the grave breathes in the 

singers' breath, 
And I hear in the tramp of the drums the beat of the 

heart of death. 
Home of my youth ! no more, through all the length 

of the years, 
No more to the place of the echoes of early laughter 

and tears, 
No more shall Rua return ; no more as the evening ends, 
260 To crowded eyes of welcome, to the reaching hands 

of friends." 

All day long from the High-place the drums and the 

singing came. 
And the even fell, and the sun went down, a wheel of 

flame; 



THE FEAST OF FAMINE 283 

And night came gleaning the shadows and hushing 

the sounds of the wood ; 
And silence slept on all, where Rua sorrowed and 

stood. 
But still from the shore of the bay the sound of the 

festival rang, 
And still the crowd in the High-place danced and 

shouted and sang. 

Now over all the isle terror was breathed abroad 
Of shadowy hands from the trees and shadowy snares 

in the sod ; 
And before the nostrils of night, the shuddering 

hunter of men 
Hurried, with beard on shoulder, back to his lighted 270 

den. 
" Taheia, here to my side ! " — " Rua, my Rua, you ! " 
i\nd cold from the clutch of terror, cold with the 

damp of the dew, 
Taheia, heavy of hair, leaped through the dark to his 

arms ; 
Taheia leaped to his clasp, and was folded in from 

alarms. 

" Rua, beloved, here, see what your love has brought : 
Coming — alas ! returning — swift as the shuttle of 

thought ; 
Returning, alas ! for to-night, with the beaten drum 

and the voice, 
In the shine of many torches must the sleepless clan 

rejoice ; 
And Taheia the well-descended, the daughter of chief 

and priest, 
Taheia must sit in her place in the crowded bench of 280 

the feast." 



284 BALLADS 

So it was spoken ; and she, girding her garment high, 
Fled and was swallowed of woods, swift as the sight 
of an eye. 

Night over isle and sea rolled her curtain of stars. 

Then a trouble awoke in the air, the east was banded 
with bars; 

Dawn as yellow as sulphur leaped on the mountain 
height ; 

Dawn, in the deepest glen, fell a wonder of light ; 

High and clear stood the palms in the eye of the 
brightening east. 

And lo! from the sides of the sea the broken sound 
of the feast ! 

As, when in days of summer, through open windows, 
the fly 
290 Swift as a breeze and loud as a trump goes by, 

But when frosts in the field have pinched the winter- 
ing mouse. 

Blindly noses and buzzes and hums in the firelit 
house : 

So the sound of the feast gallantly trampled at 
night, 

So it staggered and drooped, and droned in the morn- 
ing light. 

IV. THE RAID 

It chanced that as Rua sat in the valley of silent falls, 

He heard a calling of doves from high on the clifify 
walls. 

Fire had fashioned of yore, and time had broken, the 
rocks ; 

There were rooting crannies for trees and nesting- 
places for flocks; 



THE FEAST OF FAMINE 285 

And he saw on the top of the cHffs, looking up from 

the pit of the shade, 
A flicker of wings and sunshine, and trees that swung 300 

in the trade. 
*' The trees swing in the trade," quoth Rua, doubtful 

of words, 
" And the sun stares from the sky, but what should 

trouble the birds ? " 
Up from the shade he gazed, where high the parapet 

shone. 
And he was aware of a ledge and of things that moved 

thereon. 
" What manner of things are these ? Are they spirits 

abroad by day? 
Or the foes of my clan that are come, bringing death 

by a perilous way?" 

The valley was gouged like a vessel, and round like 

the vessel's lip. 
With a cape of the side of the hill thrust forth like 

the bows of a ship. 
On the top of the face of the cape a volley of sun 

struck fair, 
And the cape overhung like a chin a gulph of sunless 310 

air. 
" Silence, heart ! What is that ? — that, that flickered 

and shone. 
Into the sun for an instant, and in an instant gone? 
Was it a warrior's plume, a warrior's girdle of hair ? 
Swung in the loop of a rope, is he making a bridge of 

the air?" 

Once and again Rua saw, in the trenchant edge of the 

sky. 
The giddy conjuring done. And then, in the blink of 

an eye, 



286 BALLADS 

A scream caught in with the breath, a whirling packet 

of limbs, 
A lump that dived in the gulf, more swift than a dol- 
phin swims; 
And there was the lump at his feet, and eyes were 

alive in the lump. 
320 Sick was the soul of Rua, ambushed close in a clump ; 
Sick of soul he drew near, making his courage stout ; 
And he looked in the face of the thing, and the life of 

the thing went out. 
And he gazed on the tattooed limbs, and, behold, he 

knew the man : 
Hoka, a chief of the Vais, the truculent foe of his 

clan: 
Hoka a moment since that stepped in the loop of the 

rope, 
. Filled with the lust of war, and alive with courage 

and hope. 

Again to the giddy cornice Rua lifted his eyes, 
And again beheld men passing in the armpit of the 

skies. 
'' Foes of my race ! " cried Rua, " the mouth of Rua 

is true: 
330 Never a shark in the deep is nobler of soul than you. 
There was never a nobler foray, never a bolder plan ; 
Never a dizzier path was trod by the children of man ; 
And Rua, your evil-dealer through all the days of his 

years, 
Counts it honour to hate you, honour to fall by your 

spears." 
And Rua straightened his back. '' O Vais, a scheme 

for a scheme ! " 
Cried Rua and turned and descended the turbulent 

stair of the stream. 



THE FEAST OF FAMINE 287 

Leaping from rock to rock as the water-wagtail at 

home 
Flits through resonant valleys and skims by boulder 

and foam. 
And Rua burst from the glen and leaped on the shore 

of the brook, 
And straight for the roofs of the clan his vigorous 340 

way he took. 
Swift were the heels of his flight, and loud behind as 

he went 
Rattled the leaping stones on the line of his long 

descent. > 
And ever he thought as he ran, and caught at his 

gasping breath, 
*' O the fool of a Rua, Rua that runs to his death ! 
But the right is the right," thought Rua, and ran like 

the wind on the foam, 
" The right is the right for ever, and home for ever 

home. 
For what though the oven smoke ? And what though 

I die ere morn? 
There was I nourished and tended, and there was 

Taheia born." 
Noon was high on the High-place, the second noon of 

the feast; 
And heat and shameful slumber weighed on people 350 

and priest; 
And the heart drudged slow in bodies heavy with 

monstrous meals ; 
And the senseless limbs were scattered abroad like 

spokes of wheels ; 
And crapulous women sat and stared at the stones 

anigh 
With a bestial droop of the lip and a swinish rheum 

in the eye. 



288 BALLADS 

As about the dome of the bees in the time for the 

drones to fall, 
The dead and the maimed are scattered, and lie, and 

stagger, and crawl; 
So on the grades of the terrace, in the ardent eye of 

the day. 
The half-awake and the sleepers clustered and crawled 

and lay ; 
And loud as the dome of the bees, in the time of a 

swarming horde, 
360 A horror of many insects hung in the air and 

roared. 
Rua looked and wondered; he said to himself in his 

heart : 
" Poor are the pleasures of life, and death is the better 

part." 
But lo! on the higher benches a cluster of tranquil 

folk 
Sat by themselves, nor raised their serious eyes, nor 

spoke : 
Women with robes unruffled and garlands duly ar- 
ranged, 
Gazing far from the feast with faces of people es- 
tranged ; 
And quiet amongst the quiet, and fairer than all the 

fair, 
Taheia, the well-descended, Taheia, heavy of hair. 
And the soul of Rua awoke, courage enlightened his 

eyes, 
370 And he uttered a summoning shout and called on the 

clan to rise. 
Over against him at once, in the spotted shade of the 

trees, 
Owlish and blinking creatures scrambled to hands 

and knees; 



THE FEAST OF FAMINE 289 

On the grades of the sacred terrace, the driveller woke 

to fear, 
And the hand of the ham-drooped warrior brandished 

a wavering spear. 
And Rua folded his arms, and scorn discovered his 

teeth ; 
Above the war-crowd gibbered, and Rua stood smil- 
ing beneath. 
Thick, like leaves in the autumn, faint, like April 

sleet, 
Missiles from tremulous hands quivered around his 

feet; 
And Taheia leaped from her place; and the priest, 

the ruby-eyed. 
Ran to the front of the terrace, and brandished his 380 

arms, and cried : 
" Hold, O fools, he brings tidings ! " and " Hold, 't is 

the love of my heart ! " 
Till lo! in front of the terrace, Rua pierced with a 

dart. 

Taheia cherished his head, and the aged priest stood 

by, 

And gazed with eyes of ruby at Rua's darkening eye. 

** Taheia, here is the end, I die a death for a 
man. 

I have given the life of my soul to save an unsavable 
clan ! 

See them, the drooping of hams ! behold me the blink- 
ing crew : 

Fifty spears they cast, and one of fifty true ! 

And you, O priest, the foreteller, foretell for yourself 
if you can. 

Foretell the hour of the day when the Vais shall burst 390 
on your clan! 

19 



igo BALLADS 

By the head of the tapu cleft, with death and fire in 

their hand, 
Thick and silent like ants, the warriors swarm in the 

land." 

And they tell that when next the sun had climbed to 

the noonday skies, 
It shone on the smoke of feasting in the country of 

the Vais. 



NOTES TO THE FEAST OF FAMINE 

In this ballad I have strung together some of the more striking 
particularities of the Marquesas. It rests upon no authority; it is 
in no sense, like " Rahero," a native story ; but a patchwork of 
details of manners and the impressions of a traveller. It may seem 
strange, when the scene is laid upon these profligate islands, to 
make the story hinge on love. But love is not less known in the 
Marquesas than elsewhere; nor is there any cause of suicide more 
common in the islands. 

Note I, verse 2. ''Pit of Popoiy Where the bread fruit was 
stored for preservation. 

Note 2, verse 15. " Riiby-redP The priest's eyes were probably 
red from the abuse of Kava. His beard (verse iS) is said to be 
worth an estate ; for the beards of old men are the favourite head 
adornment of the Marquesans, as the hair of women formed their 
most costly girdle. The former, among this generally beardless 
artd short-lived people, fetch to-day considerable sums. 

Note 3, verse 20. " Tikis.'" The tiki is an ugly image hewn out 
of wood or stone. 

Note 4, verse 76. " The one-stringed harp." Usually employed 
for serenades. 

Note 5, verse 109. " The sacred cabin of palm.''* Which, how- 
ever, no woman could approach. I do not know where women 
were tattooed ; probably in the common house, or in the bush, for a 
woman was a creature of small account. I must guard the reader 
against supposing Taheia was at all disfigured ; the art of the 
Marquesan tattooer is extreme ; and she would appear to be clothed 
in a web of lace, inimitably delicate, exquisite in pattern, and of a 
bluish hue that at once contrasts and harmonises with the warm 
pigment of the native skin. It would be hard to find a woman more 
becomingly adorned than " a well tattooed " Marquesan. 

Note 6, verse 155. " The horror of ni<^ht." The Polynesian fear 
of ghosts and of the dark has been already referred to. Their life 
is beleaguered by the dead. 



292 BALLADS 

Note 7, verse 171. ** The quiet passas;e of souls.''' So, I am told, 
the natives explain the sound of a little wind passing overhead 
unfelt. 

Note 8, verse 208. " The first of the vidlims fell?' Without 
doubt, this whole scene is untrue to fact. The victims were dis- 
posed of privately and some time before. And indeed I am far 
from claiming the credit of any high degree of accuracy for this 
ballad. Even in a time of famine, it is probable that Marquesan 
life went far more gaily than is here represented. But the melan- 
choly of to-day lies on the writer's mind. 



TICONDEROGA 



TICONDEROGA 



A LEGEND OF THE WEST HIGHLANDS 

THIS is the tale of the man 
Who heard a word in the night 
In the land of the heathery hills, 

In the days of the feud and the fight. 
By the sides of the rainy sea, 

Where never a stranger came, 
On the awful lips of the dead, 

He heard the outlandish name. 
It sang in his sleeping ears. 

It hummed in his waking head : lo 

The name — Ticonderoga, 

The utterance of the dead. 



I. THE SAYING OF THE NAME 

On the loch-sides of Appin, 

When the mist blew from the sea, 
A Stewart stood with a Cameron : 

An angry man was he. 
The blood beat in his ears, 

The blood ran hot to his head, 
The mist blew from the sea. 

And there was the Cameron dead. 20 

" O, what have I done to my friend, 

O, what have I done to mysel', 



296 BALLADS 

That he should be cold and dead. 

And I in the danger of all ? 
Nothing but danger about me, 

Danger behind and before, 
Death at wait in the heather 

In Appin and Mamore, 
Hate at all of the ferries 
30 And death at each of the fords, 

Camerons priming gunlocks 
And Camerons sharpening swords." 

But this was a man of counsel, 

This was a man of a score, 
There dwelt no pawkier Stewart 

In Appin or Mamore. 
He looked on the blowing mist, 

He looked on the awful dead, 
And there came a smile on his face 
40 And there slipped a thought in his head. 

Out over cairn and moss, 

Out over scrog and scaur, 
He ran as runs the clansman 

That bears the cross of war. 
His heart beat in his body. 

His hair clove to his face, 
When he came at last in the gloaming 

To the dead man's brother's place. 
The east was white with the moon, 
50 The west with the sun was red, 

And there, in the house-doorway. 

Stood the brother of the dead. 

" I have slain a man to my danger, 
I have slain a man to my death. 



TICONDEROGA 297 

I put my soul in your hands," 

The panting Stewart saith. 
** I lay it bare in your hands, 

For I know your hands are leal ; 
And be you my targe and bulwark 

From the bullet and the steel." 60 

Then up and spoke the Cameron, 

And gave him his hand again : 
*' There shall never a man in Scotland 

Set faith in me in vain ; 
And whatever man you have slaughtered. 

Of whatever name or line, 
By my sword and yonder mountain, 

I make your quarrel mine.^ 
I bid you in to my fireside, 

I share with you house and hall ; 70 

It stands upon my honour 

To see you safe from all." 

It fell in the time of midnight. 

When the fox barked in the den 
And the plaids were over the faces 

In all the houses of men. 
That as the living Cameron 

Lay sleepless on his bed, 
Out of the night and the other world, 

Came in to him the dead. 80 

" My blood is on the heather. 

My bones are on the hill ; 
There is joy in the home of ravens 

That the young shall eat their fill. 
My blood is poured in the dust, 

My soul is spilled in the air; 



298 BALLADS 

And the man that has undone me 

Sleeps in my brother's care." 
" I 'm wae for your death, my brother, 
90 But if all of my house were dead, 

I couldnae withdraw the plighted hand, 
Nor break the word once said." 

" O, what shall I say to our father, 
In the place to which I fare ? 

O, what shall I say to our mother, 
Who greets to see me there? 

And to all the kindly Camerons 

That have lived and died long-syne — 

Is this the word you send them, 
100 Fause-hearted brother mine?" 

" It 's neither fear nor duty, 

It 's neither quick nor dead 
Shall gar me withdraw the plighted hand, 

Or break the word once said." 
Thrice in the time of midnight. 

When the fox barked in the den, 
And the plaids were over the faces 

In all the houses of men, 
Thrice as the living Cameron 
no Lay sleepless on his bed. 

Out of the night and the other world 

Came in to him the dead. 
And cried to him for vengeance 

On the man that laid him low ; 
And thrice the living Cameron 

Told the dead Cameron, no. 

" Thrice have you seen me, brother. 
But now shall see me no more, 



TICONDEROGA 299 

Till you meet your angry fathers 

Upon the farther shore. 120 

Thrice have I spoken, and now, 

Before the cock be heard, 
I take my leave forever 

With the naming of a word. 
It shall sing in your sleeping ears, 

It shall hum in your waking head, 
The name — Ticonderoga, 

And the warning of the dead." 



Now when the night was over 

And the time of people's fears, 130 

The Cameron walked abroad. 

And the word was in his ears. 
" Many a name I know, 

But never a name like this ; 
O, where shall I find a skilly man 

Shall tell me what it is ? " 



With many a man he counselled 

Of high and low degree. 
With the herdsmen on the mountains 

And the fishers of the sea. 140 

And he came and went unweary, 

And read the books of yore. 
And the runes that were written of old 

On stones upon the moor. 
And many a name he was told, 

But never the name of his fears — 
Never, in east or west, 

The name that rang in his ears : 
Names of men and of clans. 

Names for the grass and the tree, 150 



300 BALLADS 

For the smallest tarn in the mountains, 
The smallest reef in the sea : 

Names for the high and low, 

The names of the craig and the flat ; 

But in all the land of Scotland, 
Never a name like that. 



II. THE SEEKING OF THE NAME 

And now there was speech in the south, 

And a man of the south that was wise, 
A periwig'd lord of London,^ 

Called on the clans to rise. 
And the riders rode, and the summons 

Came to the western shore, 
To the land of the sea and the heather, 

To Appin and Mamore. 
It called on all to gather 

From every scrog and scaur. 
That loved their fathers' tartan 

And the ancient game of war. 
And down the watery valley 

And up the windy hill, 
Once more, as in the olden, 

The pipes were sounding shrill ; 
Again in highland sunshine 

The naked steel was bright ; 
And the lads, once more in tartan, 

Went forth again to fight. 

'* O, why should I dwell here 

With a weird upon my life. 
When the clansmen shout for battle 

And the war-swords clash in strife? 



TICONDEROGA 3^1 

I cannae joy at feast, 

I cannae sleep in bed, 
For the wonder of the word 

And the warning of the dead. 
It sings in my sleeping ears. 

It hums in my waking head, 
The name — Ticonderoga, 

The utterance of the dead. 
Then up, and with the fighting men 

To march away from here, IQ" 

Till the cry of the great war-pipe 

Shall drown it in my ear ! " 

Where flew King George's ensign 

The plaided soldiers went : 
They drew the sword in Germany, 

In Flanders pitched the tent. 
The bells of foreign cities 

Rang far across the plain : 
They passed the happy Rhine, 

They drank the rapid Main. 200 

Through Asiatic jungles 

The Tartans filed their way. 
And the neighing of the war-pipes 

Struck terror in Cathay.^ 
" Many a name have I heard," he thought, 

" In all the tongues of men, 
Full many a name both here and there, 

Full many both now and then. 
When I was at home in my father's house 

In the land of the naked knee, 210 

Between the eagles that fly in the lift 

And the herrings that swim in the sea, 
And now that I am a captain-man 

With a braw cockade in my hat — 



302 BALLADS 

Many a name have I heard," he thought, 
" But never a name Hke that." 



III. THE PLACE OF THE NAME 

There fell a war in a woody place, 

Lay far across the sea, 
A war of the march in the mirk midnight 
220 And the shot from behind the tree. 

The shaven head and the painted face, 

The silent foot in the wood. 
In a land of a strange, outlandish tongue 

That was hard to be understood. 

It fell about the gloaming 

The general stood with his staff, 
He stood and he looked east and west 

With little mind to laugh. 
*' Far have I been and much have I seen, 
230 And kent both gain and loss, 

But here we have woods on every hand 

And a kittle water to cross. 
Far have I been and much have I seen, 

But never the beat of this : 
And there 's one must go down to that waterside 

To see how deep it is." 

It fell in the dusk of the night 

When unco things betide. 
The skilly captain, the Cameron, 
240 Went down to that waterside. 

Canny and soft the captain went ; 

And a man of the woody land. 
With the shaven head and the painted face. 

Went down at his right hand. 



TICONDEROGA 303 

It fell in the quiet night, 

There was never a sound to ken ; 
But all of the woods to the right and the left 

Lay filled with the painted men. 

" Far have I been and much have I seen, 

Both as a man and boy, 250 

But never have I set forth a foot 
Gn so perilous an employ." 

It fell in the dusk of the night 

When unco things betide, 
That he was aware of a captain-man 

Drew near to the waterside. 
He was aware of his coming 

Down in the gloaming alone; 
And he looked in the face of the man 

And lo 1 the face was his own. 260 

" This is my weird," he said, 

** And now I ken the worst ; 
For many shall fall the morn. 

But I shall fall with the first. 
O, you of the outland tongue. 

You of the painted face. 
This is the place of my death ; 

Can you tell me the name of the place ? " 

" Since the Frenchmen have been here 

They have called it Sault-Marie ; 270 

But that is a name for priests, 

And not for you and me. 
It went by another word," 

Quoth he of the shaven head : 
" It was called Ticonderoga 

In the days of the great dead." 



304 BALLADS 

And it fell on the morrow's morning, 
In the fiercest of the fight, 

That the Cameron bit the dust 
280 As he foretold at night ; 

And far from the hills of heather. 
Far from the isles of the sea, 

He sleeps in the place of the name 
As it was doomed to be. 



NOTES TO TICONDEROGA 

Introduction. — I first heard this legend of my own country 
from that friend of men of letters, Mr. Alfred Nutt, " there in roar- 
ing London's central stream " ; and since the ballad first saw the 
light of day in Scrib>ier's Alagazi/ie, Mr. Nutt and Lord Archibald 
Campbell have been in public controversy on the facts. Two clans, 
the Camerons and the Campbells, lay claim to this bracing story; 
and they do well: the man who preferred his plighted troth to the 
commands and menaces of the dead is an ancestor worth disputing. 
But the Campbells must rest content : they have the broad lands 
and the broad page of history ; this appanage must be denied them ; 
for between the name of Catneron and that of Campbell, the muse 
will never hesitate. 

Note I, verse 67. Mr, Nutt reminds me it was " by my sword 
and Ben Cruachan " the Cameron swore. 

Note 2, verse 159. ''A periwig' d lord of London.'" The first 
Pitt. 

Note 3, verse 204. " Cathay." There must be some omission 
in General Stewart's charming " History of the Highland Regi- 
ments," a book that might well be republished and continued ; or 
it scarce appears how our friend could have got to China. 



HEATHER ALE 



HEATHER ALE 



A GALLOWAY LEGEND 

FROM the bonny bells of heather 
They brewed a drink long-syne, 
Was sweeter far than honey, 

Was stronger far than wine. 
They brewed it and they drank it, 

And lay in a blessed swound 
For days and days together 

In their dwellings underground. 

There rose a king in Scotland, 

A fell man to his foes, lo 

He smote the Picts in battle, 

He hunted them like roes. 
Over miles of the red mountain 

He hunted as they fled. 
And strewed the dwarfish bodies 

Of the dying and the dead. 

Summer came in the country, 

Red was the heather bell ; 
But the manner of the brewing 

Was none alive to tell. . 20 

In graves that were like children's 

On many a mountain head, 
The Brewsters of the Heather 

Lay numbered with the dead. 



jio BALLADS 

The king in the red moorland 
Rode on a summer's day ; 

And the bees hummed, and the curlews 
Cried beside the way. 

The king rode, and was angry, 
30 Black was his brow and pale, 

To rule in a land of heather 
And lack the Heather Ale. 

It fortuned that his vassals, 
Riding free on the heath. 

Came on a stone that was fallen 
And vermin hid beneath. 

Rudely plucked from their hiding, 
Never a word they spoke: 

A son and his aged father — 
40 Last of the dwarfish folk. 

The king sat high on his charger, 

He looked on the little men ; 
And the dwarfish and swarthy couple 

Looked at the king again. 
Down by the shore he had them ; 

And there on the giddy brink — 
'* I will give you life, ye vermin. 

For the secret of the drink." 

There stood the son and father 
50 And they looked high and low ; 

The heather was red around them, 

The sea rumbled below. 
And up and spoke the father. 

Shrill was his voice to hear: 
" I have a word in private, 

A word for the royal ear. 



HEATHER ALE 311 

" Life is dear to the aged, 

And honour a little thing; 
I would gladly sell the secret," 

Quoth the Pict to the king. 60 

His voice was small as a sparrow's, 

And shrill and wonderful clear: 
*' I would gladly sell my secret, 

Only my son I fear. 

*' For life is a little matter, 

And death is nought to the young; 
And I dare not sell my honour 

Under the eye of my son. 
Take him, O king, and bind him, 

And cast him far in the deep ; yo 

And it 's I will tell the secret 

That I have sworn to keep." 

They took the son and bound him. 

Neck and heels in a thong, 
And a lad took him and swung him, 

And flung him far and strong. 
And the sea swallowed his body. 

Like that of a child of ten ; — 
And there on the cliff stood the father, 

Last of the dwarfish men. 80 

*' True was the word I told you : 

Only my son I feared ; 
For I doubt the sapling courage 

That goes without the beard. 
But now in vain is the torture, 

Fire shall never avail : 
Here dies in my bosom 

The secret of Heather Ale." 



NOTE TO HEATHER ALE 

Among the curiosities of human nature, this legend claims a high 
place. It is needless to remind the reader that the Picts were never 
exterminated, and form to this day a large proportion of the folk of 
Scotland : occupying the eastern and the central parts, from the 
Firth of Forth, or perhaps the Lammermoors, upon the south, to 
the Ord of Caithness on the north. That the blundering guess of a 
dull chronicler should have inspired men with imaginary loathing 
for their own ancestors is already strange : that it should have 
begotten this wild legend seems incredible. Is it possible the 
chronicler's error was merely nominal ? that what he told, and what 
the people proved themselves so ready to receive, about the Picts, 
was true or partly true of some anterior and perhaps Lappish 
savages, small of stature, black of hue, dwelling underground — 
possibly also the distillers of some forgotten spirit ? See Mr. 
Campbell's Tales of the West Highlands. 



CHRISTMAS AT SEA 



CHRISTMAS AT SEA 

THE sheets were frozen hard, and they cut the 
naked hand ; 
The decks were hke a slide, where a seaman scarce 

could stand ; 
The wind was a nor'wester, blowing squally off the 

sea; 
And cliffs and spouting breakers were the only things 
a-lee. 

They heard the surf a-roaring before the break of 

day; 
But 't was only with the peep of light we saw how ill 

we lay. 
We tumbled every hand on deck instanter, with a 

shout, 
And we gave her the maintops'l, and stood by to go 

about. 

All day we tacked and tacked between the South 

Head and the North; 
All day we hauled the frozen sheets, and got no lo 

further forth ; 
All day as cold as charity, in bitter pain and dread, 
For very life and nature we tacked from head to head. 

We gave the South a wider berth, for there the tide 

race roared ; 
But every tack we made we brought the North Head 

close aboard : 



3i6 BALLADS 

So 's we saw the cliffs and houses, and the breakers 

running high, 
And the coastguard in his garden, with his glass 

against his eye. 

The frost was on the village roofs as white as ocean 
foam; 

The good red fires were burning bright in every 'long- 
shore home; 

The windows sparkled clear, and the chimneys vol- 
leyed out; 
20 And I vow we sniffed the victuals as the vessel went 
about. 

The bells upon the church were rung with a mighty 

jovial cheer; 
For it 's just that I should tell you how (of all days 

in the year) 
This day of our adversity was blessed Christmas 

morn, 
And the house above the coastguard's was the house 

where I was born. 

O well I saw the pleasant room, the pleasant faces 

there, 
My mother's silver spectacles, my father's silver hair ; 
And well I saw the firelight, like a flight of homely 

elves. 
Go dancing round the china-plates that stand upon the 

shelves. 

And well I knew the talk they had, the talk that was 
of me, 
30 Of the shadow on the household and the son that went 
to sea; 



CHRISTMAS AT SEA 317 

And O the wicked fool I seemed, in every kind of 
way, 

To be here and hauling frozen ropes on blessed Christ- 
mas Day. 

They lit the high sea-light, and the dark began to fall. 

** All hands to loose topgallant sails," I heard the cap- 
tain call. 

" By the Lord, she '11 never stand it," our first mate, 
Jackson, cried. 

..." It 's the one way or the other, Mr. Jackson," 
he replied. 

She staggered to her bearings, but the sails were new 

and good. 
And the ship smelt up to windward just as though she 

understood. 
As the winter's day was ending, in the entry of the 

night. 
We cleared the weary headland, and passed below the 40 

light. 

And they heaved a mighty breath, every soul on board 

but me. 
As they saw her nose again pointing handsome out to 

sea; 
But all that I could think of, in the darkness and the 

cold. 
Was just that I was leaving home and my folks were 

growing old. 



SEP 15 



LIBRARY OF CX)NGRESS 



DDD533'^b4D3 



